Hold Back the River
by traveller19
Summary: Post 3x11, "Ceremonies of Light and Dark". Lennier learns what it truly means to love, and Delenn learns to appreciate the people in her life while she can.
1. One Crisis After Another

_One crisis after another_.

That was how Captain Sheridan had once described life on Babylon 5. Or at least, it had been something to that effect – Lennier couldn't remember the exact phrasing he had used, and he did not currently have the energy to try to recall it.

Delenn and Marcus had somehow managed to get ahead of him again. Lennier quickened his pace to catch up to them, his feet feeling heavier with each step. He marveled at how Delenn managed to keep going through everything she had been through recently – the recent ordeals and continued worries had not seemed to slow her down one bit. Only two weeks ago she had been lying in a bed in Medlab, recovering from a knife wound inflicted by one of the horrible men who had taken her hostage on the station. Just thinking of them made Lennier's blood feel too hot inside his veins. He wasn't sure if it was because of his anger at the people who had captured and hurt Delenn, or his anger at himself - at how completely useless he had been throughout the entire ordeal. When he'd heard she had been taken, it had been as though his entire world had ceased to turn. He had felt so very lost, not to mention how scared he had been for her. Throughout the whole thing, he hadn't allowed himself to even consider the fact that Delenn might die. Because if he had, it would have meant the end of his whole world. But his inability to accept what was happening had prevented him from doing anything to help. Instead, he had just continued as normal, doing the last thing Delenn had assigned him to – preparations for the rebirth ceremony. Could he have been any _less_ helpful? Retrospectively, everyone – Captain Sheridan, Mr. Garibaldi, Sargent Allan - had of course reassured him that there had not really been anything he could have done to help. He wasn't security; he didn't know the ins and outs of the station like they did. But that didn't stop Lennier from feeling as though he had failed Delenn in some way. It was quite possibly one of the worst things he had ever felt.

And then Delenn had been lying in Medlab. Doctor Franklin had told them all from the beginning that the wound was not life threatening, the knife having missed all of Delenn's organs. But she had lost enough blood to weaken her greatly and keep her in bed for several days. Lennier had not moved from her side the entire time, save for the rebirth ceremony. (It was, after all, an important practice in the culture of the Religious Caste to provide comfort to the ill and injured – that was what he had told anyone who had asked.) After the ceremony, Delenn had slept for nearly a day. When she had finally woken and seen Lennier sitting there, she had asked if he had been there the entire time. He had lowered his eyes and said honestly that he had, and then she had laid her smooth, pale hand on his arm and murmured, "my good, dear, loyal Lennier." The warmth he had felt in his heart at those words had almost, _almost_ drowned out how awful he had felt about his lack of utility during the hostage crisis. He could not deny that he secretly wished her feelings toward him would go a bit beyond appreciation of his loyalty. But through his actions, he had made her happier. And that was all that truly mattered – wasn't it?

Lennier watched Delenn speaking with Marcus as he hurried to catch up with them. Seeing her now, refined and confident and in control, made it seem as though nothing had ever happened. It was…Lennier was tempted to use the word _miraculous_. But then again, everything about Delenn was miraculous. While Delenn had been in Medlab, he had, of course, needed to shoulder the extra work, but once she had been released, she had carried on with her responsibilities without so much as a stumble in her resolve. And the work had kept coming, between the station's break from Earth and the fact that they were, after all, on the brink of war with the Shadows. That was inevitable, a question of _when_ rather than _if_. Lennier could not remember the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep. It had definitely not been more recently that Delenn's abduction, and probably even for some time before that. And he hadn't slept at all during the time she had been in Medlab – between the working and the praying and the worrying, he simply hadn't had the time. The Minbari were a physically hardy race – they could go for several days without food or sleep, and Lennier had done so in the past. But now he could feel the exhaustion beginning to overtake him. Over the past day or so, he had found himself growing progressively tired, and now he felt as though he could barely put one foot in front of the other. He was so _close_ to being able to go back to his quarters and properly sleep – despite the looming war and all their troubles, Babylon 5 seemed to finally have reached a, albeit undoubtedly temporary, lull. They just had to finish checking in with Marcus on the Rangers' activities, and then at long last they would be free to rest. Lennier had been looking forward to it with increasing readiness all day – he was going to mediate, and then sleep for hours and hours.

Suddenly, the walls of Green Sector began to swim before his eyes, and he found himself needing to blink several times to correct his vision.

 _Make that sleep,_ then _meditate._ He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so tired. The side of his middle finger happened to brush the cut on his forefinger and he stifled a wince. Two days prior, he had managed to catch his hand on a loose nail on a wooden chair at a bar in Down Below where he and Delenn had met Marcus in an effort to be covert and vary their meeting places. They had just risen to leave and he had grasped the back of the chair to push it beneath the table – like his many rituals preserving tidiness and order, it was a habit he had formed in temple. He had felt the sharp end of the nail slice into the tender area along the inside his left index finger, close to where it met his hand. Luckily, Delenn had not been looking at him, but Marcus had seen him yank his arm away. As soon as Delenn was out of earshot – a mere couple of steps away in the noisy bar - Lennier had uttered a Minbari phrase that, had he said it in temple, probably would have gotten him sent to bed without supper, and shaken his hand roughly to try to disperse the pain. He could already see little rivulets of blood streaming from the cut.

Marcus had laughed. "You're going to be doing penance tonight for that one, mate. Does Delenn even know you _know_ that word?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Lennier had shot back with a bit of a glower. Marcus had laughed even harder. Lennier had allowed himself a dry chuckle, then held a napkin to the cut and kept the rest balled up in his hand so as to hide the small injury from Delenn – if she saw it, she'd undoubtedly ask what had happened, and right then she had had too many other things to focus on to concern herself with something so insignificant.

But, insignificant though it was, the small cut now throbbed annoyingly. As a monk, Lennier had been trained to compartmentalize pain and discomfort, even in profound forms, and not let them influence or affect him – to allow this was to lack discipline. However, his exhaustion seemed to be marring this ability, much to Lennier's dismay. That a tiny cut should be such an annoyance was rather shameful.

He did his best to push his tiredness and discomfort from his mind, as he had been trained to do, and went to stand next to Delenn, who was listening as Marcus gave accounts of the findings of the _Anla-shok_ , in general and coded terms, since they were in public. Marcus liked meeting in public – he said it better allowed him to monitor what was going on around him. Lennier thought that _he_ was actually doing more monitoring and Marcus was doing more talking, but he kept that thought to himself.

"I'm to head out on a mission – I leave tomorrow, and I imagine I'll return with further instructions and information. I'll check in before I leave the base on Minbar, but then I'll need to keep radio silence for quite some time. But my duties aside, we're really just waiting for them to make the next move," Marcus said. The identity of 'them' did not need to be spoken.

"We will be patient," said Delenn softly. "Our networks are in place, and we will know the instant something happens. Thank you for your report, Marcus – you have done well, as have all the _Anla-shok_."

Marcus smiled warmly. "We live for the One, we die for the One. I am, however, quite pleased that this way of life has brought me here."

Delenn returned his smile – it lit up her sweet gray eyes and kind face. Lennier loved seeing her smile, even if it wasn't directed at him. But was it just him, or did that smile seem slightly blurry?

Delenn turned to him then. "Come, Lennier. It looks like the universe might just continue to exist without our direct interference tonight. I think it is time for some much overdue rest, don't you?"

He tried to agree with her, but to his alarm, the words would not come. Suddenly, the walls were moving again – bobbing up and down in front of his eyes, as were Delenn and Marcus. He blinked fiercely, but this time it did no good. He tried to step backward, but his feet would not respond to his brain's commands.

"Lennier?" Delenn's voice sounded worried, and Lennier could imagine that it was reflected in her eyes. But he could not know for sure, because now the whole of Green Sector seemed to be spinning much faster than the station actually rotated, and Delenn's face was swirling in front of him, as was everything else. He didn't realize that his legs had lost their ability to support his weight until he was halfway to the ground and Marcus's hands were beneath his arms, lowering him to the floor of the hallway.

"Steady, steady," murmured Marcus, guiding him slowly to the ground, then propping his torso up gently against the wall. Lennier allowed him, feeling suddenly very weak and shaky. There was no way he could fight back to try to reclaim the scattered threads of his dignity. He rested his head-bone against the wall and shut his eyes, willing his vertigo to subside.

"Lennier." Marcus's voice entered his consciousness, and Lennier felt the Ranger's calloused hand shaking his arm gently. "Lennier, can you hear me?"

Lennier knew that the Rangers were trained in basic emergency medical response – it was a vital skill to have in a battle situation. Marcus was checking to see if he was conscious.

"I'm all right," he mumbled, his eyes still shut. It might not have been an accurate statement, but it was his default one. The moment he had found out that he was to work for Satai Delenn of the Grey Council, he had determined never to complain about anything – after all, someone as important as she had much bigger things to worry about than anything that could possibly be affecting him, and it was an honor to serve her, no matter the price. Now that he had worked for Delenn for nearly two years, he had, as he had recently admitted to Marcus, fallen in love with her. Not just with _her_ , but with her view of the world. Delenn saw the best in everyone, tackled every day with optimism and grace, and had the most beautiful, infectious smile. To make any sort of complaint to or ask anything of someone like that seemed like a terrible thing to do, so Lennier didn't. Ever.

But it did not take any particular perceptive skill to know that Lennier was not telling the entire truth this time. It wasn't a lie, so he wasn't breaking that rule – he was sure that _something_ was all right with him somehow. He just was not sure what that was right now.

"No, you are very much _not_ all right." Delenn's voice was close to his face – she had obviously knelt down next to him – and it was fraught with worry. Lennier hated himself for being the cause of that. He opened his eyes slowly to look at her, bracing himself for the continued spinning of the hallway, but to his surprise and relief he found that his environment now seemed stationary and clear. So did Delenn, who was indeed kneeling on the floor in front of him, her hand clasping his, concern etched across her features.

"Marcus, there is a BabCom unit further down the hallway. Go and call for Doctor Franklin," ordered Delenn calmly. Marcus nodded and was about to turn away when Lennier found that he was finally able to coherently speak again.

"That's really not necessary. I just…had a bit of a dizzy spell. I'm fine now."

"Lennier, you need to see the doctor…" Delenn insisted.

"And I will," he reassured her. "But I can walk to Medlab myself. I really am fine now." And he was, or at least so it seemed. He still felt a little weak, but other than that, perfectly normal, save for the constant presence of his exhaustion resulting from a desperate need for sleep.

Delenn seemed apprehensive, but she allowed Marcus to help Lennier slowly to his feet. Lennier took a moment to steady himself, holding onto his friend's arm, but then found that he was able to stand on his own. He started to take a step in the direction of the transport tube that would take him to Blue Sector – toward Medlab but further away from his bed – but stopped when he felt Marcus grasp his shoulder. Lennier turned to look at him, allowing himself just the tiniest of glares.

"What, mate, did you think I was going to let you walk there yourself?" Marcus's grin was cheeky and affectionate. "If they found you several hours from now collapsed in some random part of Blue Sector, how d'you think I'd feel?"

Lennier didn't see fit to even qualify that with a response, nor would he have had the energy to argue if he had. He just sighed in resignation and allowed Marcus to walk very closely next to him, where he could easily catch Lennier should his legs give out again. They had walked several steps when Lennier realized that Delenn was walking along his other side.

"Delenn, you don't need…" he began, but she silenced him with a small wave of her hand.

"Of course I do," she said earnestly. "I need to make sure you are all right, Lennier."

 _Why?_ Thought Lennier. _Because you need your aide in good working order? Or because we are friends? Or…_ He strangled that train of thought. Who was _he_ to question _her_ motives? Or to tell her what she needed or needn't do? He started to apologize for his impudence when he saw that she was smiling at him – a smile full of concern and affection. And suddenly he couldn't think of anything to say, so he smiled back, which seemed to diminish the worry in Delenn's eyes just the tiniest bit. At least he had done _something_ right.

The short walk to Medlab was uneventful, but Lennier was puzzled and rather embarrassed by the episode in the hallway. A Minbari monk turned diplomatic aide who couldn't keep his feet when he got a little tired was of no use to anyone, especially not to someone as important as Delenn. But he couldn't understand why it had happened – it wasn't as though he had never been tired, or even run ragged, before. But his body had never rebelled in such a way in the past.

Marcus ushered him through the door of Medlab and to a chair, into which Lennier sank gratefully, while Delenn sought out Doctor Franklin in his office. After a few seconds, the two emerged.

"Hi Lennier, Marcus," said the doctor nodding to each of them. "Lennier, are you able to stand up?"

Lennier did so successfully in response to the doctor's question, ignoring Marcus's proffered arm this time. Franklin nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Let's get you to an exam room."

Lennier followed him into a small, windowless room. The doctor motioned to the examination bench, clearly indicating that he wished Lennier to sit on it. Lennier would rather have lain down and fallen asleep on it – the tilted bench was not terribly unlike a Minbari bed – but he resisted the urge and instead perched on the edge with his legs dangling off the side.

"Delenn tells me you collapsed a few minutes ago?" prompted Franklin as he gathered some tools from the counter.

"I…I suppose that's what happened, yes," replied Lennier, keeping his gaze respectfully downcast as the doctor turned to face him.

"And do you remember what happened?" The doctor pulled up a rolling chair in front of Lennier so he was more at eye level, but Lennier still stared at the floor. A lowered gaze was a sign of respect in Minbari culture.

"I just felt very dizzy and weak for a moment," Lennier murmured, the experience cemented in his memory. "The room was spinning, and I suppose my legs just stopped holding me upright."

"And now?"

"I feel fine," insisted Lennier. "It's like nothing ever happened."

The doctor grinned mischievously. "Let me guess. You're completely fine and you're only here because Delenn insisted you come."

Lennier _did_ look up at him then. "I truly believe the only medicine I am in need of is a good night's sleep, Doctor."

Franklin nodded. "I bet you haven't had much time for sleep recently, with Delenn being injured and everything else that's been going on."

Lennier sighed. "That would be…correct."

"Uh huh. However, I seem to remember about three months ago, you were lying in my Medlab in a coma. And when I released you and told you to look after yourself, you…"

"…did my job." Lennier narrowed his eyes a little, his tolerance for the doctor's banter rapidly declining with his level of wakefulness. Franklin seemed to pick up on this and backed off.

"I get it. I know what it's like to have a demanding job. There are some times I don't want to count the number of hours I've been awake." He selected a penlight from his instrument tray. "However, collapse of any kind is a cause for concern, or at the very least investigation. And since you reported dizziness along with it, I want to do a quick exam and make sure your neural pathways check out. You had a hell of a knock on the head three months ago, and I want to make sure what happened today wasn't a result of that."

Lennier nodded. After his own stay in Medlab following being involved in an explosion which had left him unconscious for nearly two days, he'd gotten rather accustomed to being poked and prodded and having a penlight shown in his eyes a great many times. It was by no means his favorite activity, but he didn't suppose he minded it very much anymore. But he had hoped it would be over for a while.

The doctor ran his vitals scanner over him, tested his reflexes, used the penlight to make sure his pupils were the same size and constricting and dilating normally, and made him read from a chart on the wall to test that his vision was indeed back to normal.

"Well," said Franklin finally, "I can't seem to find anything wrong. If you had actually lost consciousness or if you were still feeling dizzy, I'd be more worried. But for now my diagnosis is exhaustion, and the treatment is a good night's sleep. Does that sound doable to you?"

"It sounds wonderful. Thank you, Doctor." Lennier slowly lowered his feet to the floor and bowed respectfully to Franklin before heading back into the main area of Medlab where Delenn and Marcus were waiting. Delenn was saying something to Marcus and still looking anxious, but when she saw Lennier and Franklin emerge from the exam room, she hurried over to them.

"Doctor, is he all right?"

Franklin smiled reassuringly. "I think so. No fever, pulse is normal, neural pathways check out. I think he's just exhausted – which I believe might be best treated with a _morning off_ ," he said, his voice heavy with suggestion.

"He shall have the entire day," Delenn assured the doctor before turning to Lennier and laying her hand on his arm. "My poor Lennier, I've worked you much too hard lately. I'm so sorry – I feel responsible for this whole thing."

Lennier regarded her with alarm. "Delenn, it wasn't your fault at all!"

Delenn didn't argue with him, but Lennier suspected that was more because she did not wish to upset him, not because she agreed with him.

"Can he go, Doctor?"

Franklin nodded. "Yeah, he's good to go." He turned to his patient. "Lennier, if you collapse or feel dizzy again, I want you to come right back here, okay?"

"Yes, of course." Lennier agreed readily with the doctor to avoid further upsetting Delenn. Thankfully, she at least seemed satisfied with that, and they took their leave. Delenn thanked the doctor again, Lennier bowed, and Marcus waved.

"Well, I'm off," said Marcus when they were in the hallway. "I ship out to Minbar early in the morning, so I'll see you when I get back."

"Be safe, Marcus," said Delenn warmly. "And please keep me updated."

"I will," Marcus reassured her, and then turned to Lennier. "Take care of her, but take care of yourself, too, all right?" There was no patronization in his voice, only warmth and friendship, so Lennier afforded him a half-smile.

"I will. Say hello to the homeworld for me. And…thank you." He figured he didn't need to say what for, and he was grateful when Marcus didn't press him to do so. Marcus might have had a bit of an ego, but this was won over by his compassion toward his friend, who had clearly damaged his dignity enough for one day.

Marcus left, and Delenn and Lennier headed for the transport tube. Lennier was thankful to finally be heading back to his quarters, but what Delenn had said in Medlab still bothered him.

"Delenn?" he said quietly as the transport tube rushed toward the ambassadorial wing of Green Sector.

"Hmm?" She sounded as though she had been deep in thought.

"It really wasn't your fault."

She turned to smile at him. "That is sweet of you to say, Lennier." She meant it – that much was obvious. But the answer still didn't satisfy him. However, the transport tube reached their wing before he could further press the matter.

"Come, I will walk with you to your quarters," said Delenn once they had exited the lift. Lennier started to protest, but she quickly quieted him. "Please allow me to do this, Lennier. I will feel better once I know you are safe in your bed."

Lennier lowered his gaze in deferment to her. If walking him back to his quarters made Delenn feel better, then by Valen, she could do so. Never mind that _he_ should be doing that for _her_.

They reached Lennier's door and he was about to slide his key into the lock when he remembered something.

"Delenn, I was supposed to remind you of your meeting with the Brakiri ambassador tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, of course. Thank you." She sounded as though she would have forgotten had he not mentioned it. "But I meant what I said in Medlab – I am giving you the whole day off tomorrow."

Lennier shook his head. "I can be there. I'll get plenty of sleep with just the morning, and I can meet you in your quarters at 14:30 for the meeting at 15:00. You'll need someone to take notes for you."

Delenn began to protest, but then pressed her lips together in a small smile. "All right. You are decidedly much more stubborn than when you first came to me, did you know that?"

One corner of Lennier's mouth quirked upward. "Well, I have a very good mentor."

The ring of Delenn's laugh was like the sweetest of music to him.

"Good night, Lennier. Please sleep well."

"Good night, Delenn." He bowed to her and let himself into his quarters. He barely remembered to kick off his shoes before he mounted his angled bed, robes and all. Lennier was asleep almost before his eyes were fully closed, but even in his dreamless sleep, he had the oddest sensation of the darkness of space's eternal night being even closer to him than usual.


	2. Emergency Priority

Delenn got out of bed slowly the next morning, not remembering when the last time she had been able to wake up naturally like this, without the aid of an alarm. It was lovely. Fleeting, she knew, but lovely all the same.

Slowly, she stretched her arms above her head, noting with happiness that it finally did not hurt to do so. She was grateful for Doctor Franklin's tissue regenerator, which had made the healing of the wound on her back much quicker and less painful than it might otherwise have been. Of course, the recovery process might have been a little bit less uncomfortable had she actually heeded the doctor's advice and taken time off once she had been released from Medlab, but she had been much too busy – and admittedly, too stubborn – to listen. Lennier had been right the previous evening – that hadn't been a shining moment in her capacity as a role model. But for all of her lack of rest, Lennier had been in so much more of a deficit. He had been there every single time she'd woken in Medlab, and she didn't think he knew that she knew he hadn't slept. She hadn't realized until now that she had never thanked him for going so above and beyond the call of duty these past few weeks. While she hadn't required such devotion from him, she _had_ expected it. That was just the kind of person Lennier was – he never complained, never asked for anything, and was always willing to give more of himself, even when to the naked eye it seemed as though he should not have anything left to give. But that was no excuse for not acknowledging his contribution; in fact, she felt all the worse for having neglected him. If it hadn't been for Lennier stepping up during her convalescence to continue her work, they might have been much worse off than they currently were. And having his constant, familiar presence at her side had been so comforting. But Delenn feared she had taken advantage of him terribly, and she had not realized just how much so until the previous evening. The longer she had stood with Marcus in Medlab, waiting, the worse her guilt had become. She should have made Lennier take time off ages ago, whether he wanted it or not. She feared she had not been a very good employer as of late – not to mention not a very good friend.

She sighed and tried to shake off her feelings of guilt. There was nothing to be done now but try to prevent the mistake in the future…and maybe talk to the Minbari government about giving her aide a raise. The guilt made her want to apologize further, but she had made poor Lennier so uncomfortable the previous day that she didn't wish to press the matter. Lennier seemed unable to fathom that she could do anything wrong. She wondered if it might be a good life goal to aspire to be what her aide thought she was. The thought made her chuckle, but it was a nice idea.

She was just sitting down with her tea and breakfast when her BabCom unit beeped. What the mechanical voice said made her heart flutter.

" _Message from Captain John Sheridan. Text only."_

With everything that had been going on recently, by all rights Delenn should have felt apprehensive any time the captain wished to speak to her. He could very well be telling her they were at war. But she couldn't help it – the mere mention of him, of _John_ , made her smile from ear to ear.

"Display," she said, cradling her tea as the words scrolled across the screen.

 _Meet for dinner tonight in the Zocalo, 1900? My treat._

 _-J_

"Yes, yes of course!" she exclaimed. She was very aware that she was being asked on what the humans would call a date. It would be so lovely to see John in a non-work-related capacity. She desperately needed to, after the events that had happened lately.

" _Transcribe this response?"_ the robotic voice asked, interrupting her happy reverie.

"No. Um, transcribe reply, 'I will be there. Looking forward to it.' Send reply."

Her joyful anticipation of the coming evening carried her through the morning and early afternoon. She read through some reports that had piled up during the busyness of the past few days, but she was also able to relax a bit for the first time in several weeks. Unless she counted convalescing from her wound as relaxing, which she didn't. She watered the plants that adorned her quarters and read a book.

In the afternoon, she got ready for her meeting with Lethke. Delenn liked the young Brakiri ambassador – he was one of the more friendly and reasonable representatives from the League of Non-Aligned Worlds whom she dealt with on the station, and she supposed that if she must do business on an otherwise free day, there were worse people for it to be with.

At 14:30, she listened for the door chime announcing Lennier's arrival, but it did not come. One minute passed, and then another. Delenn furrowed her brow – Lennier was punctual to the minute. He was never late. Still, she waited, unpleasant memories of the previous day becoming stronger with each passing second. At 14:40, ten minutes after Lennier's scheduled arrival but with still no sign of him, her concern got the best of her and she hurried down the hall to her aide's quarters.

Delenn pressed the button for the door chime, but this yielded no response. So she pressed it again, and again. Nothing. Then, she tried the speaker.

"Lennier? Lennier, are you in there?"

Silence.

"Lennier, it's Delenn. Are you all right?"

Yet again, nothing. Logically, Delenn knew that there could be any number of explanations for her aide being ten minutes late and not responding to his door chime or speaker. But this wasn't at all like Lennier, and between that fact and her worry from the previous day's events still fresh in her mind, Delenn made a decision. Both she and Lennier had keys for each other's quarters in case of emergency. She let herself in.

The room was dark, and it took Delenn's eyes a moment to adjust. She could barely make out room's implements – kitchenette, couch, table, little prayer area in the corner, bed against the far wall. And as she grew increasingly accustomed to the darkness, she could make out Lennier's form, lying at the usual forty-five degree angle on the bed.

Unsure of whether to be worried or annoyed at her aide having slept in _this_ long when she had been satisfied with several hours less, Delenn approached the bed. When she came to stand next to Lennier, she could see that his eyes were closed, but his breathing was not the slow, even rise and fall of someone who was peacefully asleep. It was quicker, shallower. She wondered if he could perhaps be having a nightmare. Eager to free him from it should that be the case, Delenn reached out and gently but firmly shook Lennier's shoulder, noticing that the robes beneath her hand were the ones he had worn the previous day.

"Lennier. Lennier, wake up! Lights," she said, the last part ordering the voice-activated system to raise to the brightness of the room. Lennier stirred at her voice and touch, and finally opened his eyes, but almost immediately, he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Delenn?" he whispered, squinting at her as though she was standing far away rather than right next to him. "What…what time is it?"

"14:45," she replied. "I'm sorry to come into your quarters uninvited, but when you did not meet me when you said you would, I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"14:45…"murmured Lennier, blinking as though he was trying to clear his vision. Suddenly his eyes widened. "14:45! Oh Delenn, I'm so sorry…" He started to sit up, but almost immediately his face went completely white. He murmured "Oh" before sinking back down onto the angled bed where he laid quite still, his eyes closed. _No, not still_ , Delenn thought as she suddenly realized that her friend was shaking all over. She felt a pang of fear in the pit of her stomach, an explosion of the steadily growing worry she had been experiencing since Lennier had failed to show up at her quarters on time. Something was truly _very_ wrong.

"Lennier," she said, trying and failing to keep her voice calm. She took his hand in her own and laid her other on his cheek, hoping her touch would provide some momentary comfort from whatever he was suffering from and maybe encourage him to open his eyes. And he _did_ open his eyes, but only when Delenn gasped and pulled her hand away from his face.

"In Valen's name, you are burning up!"

"No," said Lennier weakly, once again furrowing his brow in confusion. "I'm very cold."

Fear fluttered inside Delenn's chest again. If Lennier felt cold, it meant that his temperature was still rising. High fevers were one of the most worrisome afflictions a Minbari could contract. Because Minbari did not sweat, they had no natural way of cooling themselves when faced with a high body temperature. And Lennier's was getting higher.

"I'm going to call the doctor." Delenn started to turn away and head for the BabCom unit on the wall.

"But I already went to the doctor," countered Lennier, sounding all the more confused. Then he swallowed hard and shut his eyes for a moment, his body shaking even harder. His next words were barely a whimper.

"Delenn, what's happening?"

"It's going to be all right," she soothed, even though she doubted more and more that it would be with every passing second. "I'm going to call Doctor Franklin so we can get you to Medlab. He'll know what's wrong, and how to fix it."

As she turned away, Lennier tried once again to sit up – the action of following her wherever she went was probably so engrained in his subconscious that even the high fever did not temper his need to follow that pattern. Delenn quickly laid a hand on his chest before he could fall off of the bed and pushed him gently back down.

"No, no - don't try to get up. I'll be right back."

He blinked at her, and for a moment she saw lucidity flicker in his eyes, and he nodded. Delenn gave his hand a quick squeeze and then hurried over to the screen on the wall.

"Call Doctor Stephen Franklin, emergency priority," she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. Lennier was incredibly perceptive, and she was worried that the confusion brought on by the fever might turn that perceptiveness into panic should he pick up on her fear.

To her relief, Franklin's face appeared on the screen almost immediately.

"Delenn?" he seemed momentarily surprised to see her, which made sense, given that the call had been placed from Lennier's quarters. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid Lennier is very ill. He has a fever so high that it is making him confused, and I think he is getting worse. And he is too weak even to sit up."

She saw the doctor tense when she said the word "fever", and she bit her bottom lip reflexively in nervousness.

"Can you stay with him until I get there?" Franklin asked.

"Yes, of course," Delenn quickly replied.

"Okay, I'm on my way. Try to keep him calm – if he gets upset or panicked, it will only raise his body temperature more." He waited for Delenn to nod, showing that she understood. "I'll be there in a minute. Franklin out."

Delenn sighed shakily and clasped her hands tightly in front of her. She fought the urge to hurry back to her stricken friend's side, but there was something she needed to attend to first. As cruel as it felt at that moment, she _was_ an ambassador – she needed to be diplomatic, even in emergencies. She glanced over her shoulder and, satisfied that Lennier was not in danger of falling out of bed at that exact moment, she turned back to the screen.

"Call Ambassador von Bartrado."

A few seconds later, she was looking at the Brakiri ambassador. He looked vaguely annoyed at her lateness, but not angry.

"Ah, Delenn. Have you forgotten about our meeting?"

"No, Lethke, I have not. But I am afraid an emergency has arisen. I sincerely apologize, but you know I would not ask to postpone so late unless it were truly serious."

"Say no more," the Brakiri ambassador smiled warmly. "The matter we were to discuss is not urgent, and you are too kind a soul to be angry with. Let us speak no more of it."

"Thank you, Lethke," Delenn replied, breathing a sigh of relief and bowing respectfully. "If you ever need the favor returned, consider it done."

Von Bartrado dipped his head. "I do hope everything is all right, Delenn."

"As do I," she murmured. "I must go. Thank you again, Lethke."

She terminated the call and hurried across the room. Lennier's eyes fluttered open as he heard her approach.

"Please tell me I haven't caused an interplanetary incident," he murmured.

So he _had_ heard. Delenn's laugh was forced. So was Lennier's attempt at a smile, and it was interrupted by the bout of shivers that suddenly racked his body. Delenn took his hand again.

"The doctor is on his way."

Lennier nodded slightly, but she could see in his eyes that his brief hold on lucidity was beginning to slip away again. Desperate to be of some comfort, she whispered,

"Take strength, Lennier. All will be well."

 _It is a lie for the good of another_ , she told herself, but that didn't make it true. She had no idea how this would end, and Lennier knew that. But all the same, she felt his hand weakly squeeze hers, and she realized that he understood. But then his eyes closed again, as if he could not keep them open for a moment longer, and he lay still but for the shaking. And all Delenn could do was watch and pray silently until the door opened and Doctor Franklin stepped into the room.


	3. This Sea of Darkness

Delenn moved aside to allow the doctor access to his patient. Two nurses followed Franklin into the room with a gurney and awaited instruction.

"Hey, Lennier," said Franklin, waving his medical scanner over Lennier's body. "Talk to me, buddy. What's going on with you?"

His eyes still closed, Lennier mumbled,

"Delenn says I need to go to Medlab."

"And Delenn is very right," replied Franklin, his brow furrowing as he examined the results on the screen of his scanner. Then he removed a penlight from his pocket and bent over his patient. "Can you open your eyes for me for a second?"

Lennier obeyed, but winced and tried weakly to pull away when Franklin shined the light into his eyes.

"I know, I know. You must really hate this thing by now," sighed the doctor. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"I'm so cold," Lennier whispered, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. "I don't…I don't feel well at all…"

Franklin seemed to realize he wasn't going to get any coherent answers from his patient. "Okay. We're gonna get you to Medlab now. Just hang tight." He motioned to the nurses, who immediately commenced bringing the gurney forward and moving Lennier onto it. Lennier seemed almost completely limp in their arms as they moved him from his bed onto the rolling table.

As the nurses were securing Lennier, Franklin turned to Delenn, who had watched the whole scene with her heart in her throat. The look on Franklin's face had seemed more concerned by the second.

"It's not good," he said in response to her unasked question. "His temperature's pushing one hundred and five. We've got to get him cooled down as soon as possible. Did he say anything to you about anything hurting, or any other symptoms he was feeling?"

Delenn shook her head. "No. He has only had a couple of brief moments of lucidity since I got here, and he hasn't said anything other than that he feels cold." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, almost as though she were hugging herself. "I fear he is quite delirious. He _never_ complains in my presence. About _anything_." _If only he'd said something about how tired he was. I would have given him more time to rest and maybe he wouldn't have taken ill. But I should have seen the signs, and_ made _him get some rest._ Delenn cut the thought off. No, she couldn't slip back into thinking like that. She was of no use to Lennier if she spent all her time blaming herself. She relied on him so much, but right now, he needed her.

"Okay. We'll start running tests when we get to Medlab to see what's causing this. Hopefully whatever it is will pop right out at us and we can get it treated quickly."

"I am staying with him. In Medlab." Delenn's words were a statement, not a question. "He did it for me." _And it's the least I can do._

The doctor smiled a little. "I wouldn't have expected anything else."

By that time, the nurses had finished securing Lennier on the gurney. The short walk to Medlab felt as though it took forever, although their pace reflected the situation's urgency. They did not run into anyone in the hallways, which was merciful. Poor Lennier would have been so humiliated if anyone had seen him being wheeled off to Medlab.

Once they reached their destination, Delenn was left to stand outside the window of a room in the Intensive Care Unit and watch as Franklin and the nurses cared for her friend. She would much rather have been at his side, but she knew that right now, the best way for her to help Lennier was by staying out of the way and letting the medical professionals do their work. They had taken Lennier out of his robes and dressed him in a light cotton hospital gown, which was better for his body temperature but not for his comfort level. When they started surrounding him with cooling pads, Lennier struggled, but after only a couple of seconds his weakness got the better of him and he went limp. Then one of the nurses drew several vials of blood while Franklin examined Lennier more thoroughly. Lennier seemed barely responsive as the doctor poked and prodded him. Finally, Franklin said something to one of the nurses, and then emerged from the room. Delenn hurried over to him.

"Have you found anything?" she asked hurriedly. She knew that this was undoubtedly what Franklin wished to discuss, but her anxiety had tempered her inhibitions a bit. It was as though she couldn't stop herself from asking. Luckily, the doctor seemed to understand.

"It's looking more and more like some kind of infection. His lymph nodes are very enlarged, which indicates that his body is trying to fight off some kind of insult. We're running his blood work now, which will give us more information, and we'll get cultures set up and run viral panels. If the fever _is_ caused by an infection, those will tell us what organism is causing it, so we can treat it more effectively. In the meantime, I'm going to get him started on some broad-spectrum antibiotics to hopefully start hitting whatever this is until the cultures and panels come back and we can use something more specific. As soon as my nurses get an IV catheter in so we can get fluids and antibiotics going, I'm going to run some scans so we can figure out where in his body the problem is originating from." He finally took a breath. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of information really fast. You okay?"

 _Of course not!_ thought Delenn. _My dear friend is desperately ill and I just want him well so I can tell him how much I appreciate him._

But of course, she did not say that. Doctor Franklin was the last person she should take her worry out on.

"I know you are doing everything you can for Lennier. I trust you."

He smiled at her, but the smile did not meet his eyes. He was about to respond when they were both startled by an abrasive, metallic _clang_ and a cry from one of the nurses from inside the ICU room. They both made to run toward the room, but Franklin held up a hand.

"Wait here." His tone held no room for argument, and it took every ounce of self-control in Delenn's body to keep from snarling that she was an ambassador and she would _not_ be ordered around by _anyone_ and how _dare_ he… But then she remembered that she was supposed to be staying out of the way, by her own admission. Her anger faded, but her fear remained. She rushed to the window.

The noise had undoubtedly been made by a metal tray full of medical implements that had fallen to the ground. Lennier, who less than a minute prior had been too weak to lift his head, was suddenly sitting up. His whole body was shaking so much that Delenn could see it all the way from where she was standing. His chest heaved with exertion, his fingers gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his eyes were wide and _frightened._ Delenn had seen Lennier nervous before, on occasion. And when they were down in the isolation vault with the Markab during that terrible time the previous year, she had seen him afraid, even though he had tried so valiantly not to show it, for her sake and for that of the people dying all around them. But she had never seen him express anything close to the terror she saw in his eyes at that moment. She had no idea what was going on in Lennier's mind, but she could only imagine how terrifying the world could seem if one was as delirious as he was. She _needed_ to be in there with him - the lack of fulfillment of her innate need to provide comfort was so overwhelming that she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

Franklin and the two nurses were spread out along the walls of the little room, keeping a safe distance. Delenn watched Franklin slowly take a step toward his patient, but Lennier, seemingly hyper-aware, snapped his head in his direction and immediately brought his hands into position for combat, with his second and fifth fingers extended upward. His hands shook with the effort required just to keep them at the ready, but still Lennier stared the doctor down, the intensity of his gaze enhanced by the fever-brightness of his eyes. Then he said something – what, Delenn could not tell for the glass between them. Franklin replied softly, and then Lennier spoke again, shaking his head with wide eyes, trying pull his legs up to his chest in an effort to get his entire body as far away from the doctor as possible, but failing and almost tumbling off of the bed in his weakness.

It was then that Delenn decided to ignore Franklin's orders. _Someone_ was going to get hurt – either Lennier, in his compromised state of mind, was going to attack one of the health care professionals, or he was going to fall off of the little hospital bed. She didn't know if she could help – Lennier was _so_ tense and frightened – but she had to try. She was just about to hurry through the doorway when she almost ran into Franklin, who was coming out of the other side.

"I am going in there. _Now_." Her tone held no room for argument. To her surprise, he nodded.

"I was just about to ask you to. Delenn, he's a danger to himself and others. I can't even get close enough to sedate him." Franklin shook his head in frustration. "But I _have_ to get an IV line in – if we don't get antibiotics into him, and _soon_ , he's in really serious trouble. I can't talk to him – he's speaking in Adronato. I can't understand him, and I'm honestly not sure if he can understand me. Delenn…I don't know if we're going to be able to get through to him. But if anyone can do it, it's you."

Delenn had been worried about the same thing, but she could not bear to think about what might happen to Lennier if she failed, so she did not allow herself the time to think.

"Ask the nurses to come out," she told Franklin quietly. "I will go in. You will stand in the doorway with the sedative. I will tell you when it is safe."

Franklin nodded, and stepped back into the doorway to motion for the nurses to come out. They looked quite relieved.

Delenn entered the little room slowly, carefully picking her way over the scattered medical implements and metal tray, which lay facedown on the floor. Miraculously, Lennier was still sitting up, though he was swaying more and more. When he saw her, however, he tensed, and his hands went back up into combat position.

"Lennier." Delenn spoke as quietly and calmly as possible, the words of her native tongue, Adronato, feeling like old friends to her. She had always loved the way her language sounded, and she hoped that it would be of some comfort to her friend now.

"Lennier, it is I, Delenn." She continued to walk forward, slowly, but still he remained in defensive position, his eyes darting up and down her figure uncertainly.

"You know who I am, Lennier," she continued, voice as low and even as ever. She stepped forward again, but this time Lennier shrank away from her.

"Please don't hurt me," he whispered, his voice trembling. Delenn felt as though someone were tearing her heart in two.

"Lennier, I would never, ever hurt you." She located a rolling chair, pulled it as quietly as she could next to the bed, and sat down into it so that her eyes were finally at the level of his. She hoped that her presence might be less threatening that way. Lennier's hands fell to his sides suddenly – he no longer had the strength to keep them up in combat position. Taking advantage of the opportunity and moving as slowly as she could, Delenn reached out and grasped her friend's hand. At first Lennier jumped and tried to move away, but suddenly he stopped and squinted at her.

"De…Delenn?"

She nodded, and she could see the tiniest bit of tension flow out of his body. Running her thumb over his knuckles and smiling at him, she murmured,

"That's right. I am here, and here I'll stay." She slipped a hand behind his back to attempt to gently lower him back down onto the bed, but when he felt her trying to do so, he stiffened.

"You should lie down, Lennier," she soothed. "You need to save your strength."

He shook his head vehemently. "They're trying to kill me," he sobbed.

 _What?_ Lennier's fevered mind must have been even further gone than Delenn had thought. She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek, suppressing a wince at the terrible heat she felt radiating from it. The vitals monitor above the bed said 105.6 degrees Fahrenheit – Lennier was getting worse, and the extreme emotional stress was only accelerating it. She did not want to think about what might happen to him if they could not stop the rising fever.

"Doctor Franklin and the nurses aren't trying to kill you. They are trying to help you," she reassured him. "I know you're feeling terribly ill and everything seems frightening, but you have to let them help you. They want to give you some medicine that will help you feel better. But you have to let them do what they need to." She felt him sway beneath her hand, but with a jerk, he managed to hold himself upright. This burst of adrenaline _had_ to be almost over. She had no idea how he was managing to remain sitting up this long.

"Please lie down," she murmured. "Lennier, you _must_ rest."

"No," whimpered Lennier. "C…can't lie down. Delenn, they're trying to kill me…"

She froze suddenly, realization striking her. _Of course._ How could she not have seen? The answer had been right in front of her the whole time.

"Doctor Franklin," she whispered fervently, turning her head to where he was still standing in the doorway. "Does the end of the bed raise?"

Franklin furrowed his brow. "Button on the left of the remote," he whispered back. "But why…?"

She waved her hand to quiet him. She located the indicated button and, keeping one hand behind Lennier's back to steady him, held it down until the half of the bed closest to Lennier's head was at a forty-five degree angle.

"It's safe now," she told Lennier. "It was just a misunderstanding – they didn't mean it. The humans do things differently from us, remember."

She eased his torso gently back to rest on now angled bed, and finally, _finally_ , he let her. She ran her hand up and down his arm a couple of times as he rested his head against the pillow, and for a moment he was calm and relaxed. But then another paroxysm of chills struck him, and he shivered violently and tried weakly to push off the cooling pad that covered him like a blanket. Delenn took both of his hands in her own to prevent him from doing so. Lennier didn't even try to struggle this time – he just lay there, trembling, defeat in his eyes.

"I'm freezing," he whimpered hopelessly.

"I know. I'm so, so sorry, Lennier," whispered Delenn, hoping that in his delirium he hadn't caught the way her voice broke. _This shouldn't be happening. You don't deserve this. My sweet, loyal Lennier._

" _Ni moshna._ Not…not your fault," he murmured, and Delenn fought back tears. Even now, he was trying to reassure her.

"Delenn," whispered Franklin from the door. She'd forgotten he was standing there. She realized he must have no idea what was happening – her entire conversation with Lennier had been in Adronato. But the doctor could doubtlessly see that the fight seemed to have gone out of Lennier, though whether it was due to the wearing off of the fever-induced adrenaline rush or from her ministrations, Delenn could not be sure. She nodded to Franklin, and turned back to Lennier as he approached.

"Lennier," she murmured. He met her eyes, the picture of devotion, just as he had been when he had sworn himself to her side all those many months ago. He was so fixated on her that he did not even flinch when Franklin drove the needle of the syringe that held the sedative into his arm. "You are the best aide I could ever have asked for. And because you are _so_ good, I need you to do something for me right now, all right?"

"Of course, Delenn. What is it?" he whispered, even as he began to struggle to keep his eyes open. Delenn smiled, hoping to make the last thing Lennier saw of some comfort to him.

"I need you to go to sleep."

And sleep Lennier did. The sedatives overwhelmed his already exhausted body and his eyes fluttered closed, his hands going limp in Delenn's. But as Franklin hurried around the room, calling the nurses and gathering supplies, all Delenn could do was sit there, still holding her friend's hands, trying not to allow the worry to overwhelm her. After a time, she felt a hand on her arm. The touch was gentle, but she jumped a bit anyway.

"Sorry," said Franklin. Delenn shook her head, indicating that it was no matter. Franklin continued.

"We've got the IV catheter in, and we're running fluids and antibiotics now. We're getting ready to run him through the scanner, to try and see what part of his body is causing the problem."

"Yes," said Delenn, struggling to pull out of her own thoughts. "I…I will wait outside."

"You can sit with him as soon as we bring him back," Franklin reassured her. She nodded and turned toward the door, but then paused and turned back to the doctor.

"Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"For future reference, the Minbari view sleeping in the horizontal to be tempting death – it is why our beds are at a sharp angle to the ground. Long ago, our physiology made lying parallel to the ground very dangerous. We have since evolved beyond this, and logically, we know the peril is no longer present."

"But Lennier's logic has abandoned him," Franklin finished for her, realization dawning upon his features. "I _knew_ that about Minbari. I'm such an idiot - I can't believe I forgot. I'm sorry."

"I think that Lennier will understand, when his lucidity returns," she replied. _When. Not if. When._

The doctor nodded gratefully, and then went to fetch his patient, leaving Delenn to her own devices. She tried to meditate, but to her immense frustration, she found that she was unable to put aside her anxiety enough to reach the plane of calmness required. Two years ago, things would have been different – nothing, no agony or fear had been too great to keep her from the religious practices she held so dear. But after her experience with the Chrysalis Device, she found deep meditation in very emotionally trying times to be more difficult than it had been previously. She could only speculate that it had something to do with the fact that her newfound humanity made her more emotional than she had been when she was pure Minbari, and she simply did not know how to keep that emotion in check yet. Or perhaps she would never learn, and she was not sure if she wanted to. It was though every feeling she had were enhanced – the joy, the love, the grief, the worry, the hurt. Some of it was amazing. Some of it could be overwhelming. Today, she felt very overwhelmed.

 _Lennier would be able to meditate,_ she thought with an ironic chuckle. The teacher from Lennier's temple whom Delenn had spoken to when Lennier had first been assigned to her had said that he had the best focus and skill of all of the novitiates – in meditation and pretty much everything else. When their world was falling apart around them, as it so often seemed to be these days, Lennier's rituals of meditation and prayer were what saw him through. He seemed to take such comfort in having a sense of order and structure. Delenn supposed that was a result of his years in temple, during which he had been expected to follow a rigid schedule every day. And she supposed she understood – when everything was in limbo, grasping at even the smallest breath of order could be comforting.

And now, everything in Lennier's mind thrown had been thrown into disarray. All sense of order and structure was gone, replaced by uncertainty. It was no wonder he was so terrified.

Abandoning her attempts to focus on her meditation, Delenn decided to pray instead. That came easier. The Minbari did not believe in one god, like in many of the human religions; nor did they believe in multiple gods, like the Centauri. They prayed to any being that may be present in the universe, without pretending to understand something so much bigger than themselves. And so Delenn prayed to anyone, anything, that might be out there in some corner of the universe and willing to listen to her. She prayed that her friend would be all right. That her Lennier would be well again and at her side, where he belonged. That this one little piece of order and structure in her own world of uncertainty, her little candle in this sea of darkness - whom she had come to rely so heavily on without even realizing it - would be restored.

She didn't know how much time had gone by when she heard footsteps approaching her. She looked up to see Franklin coming toward her. She made to get up from her chair, but he motioned her back down with his hand and pulled up a chair beside her. He looked haggard, exhausted. And in no way optimistic. Delenn's stomach did somersaults for what had to have been the hundredth time that day.

"You found something?" she prompted, fighting to keep her voice from trembling.

He nodded. "Unfortunately, it wasn't what I was hoping." He inhaled heavily, as if fortifying himself to deliver the news. Delenn found herself gripping the edges of her chair so hard that her fingers ached, but that was all right because the pain gave her something to distract at least a part of her mind, in order to keep her from falling into abject panic.

"Because I suspected Lennier had an infection, I calibrated the scanner to look for concentrations of bacteria within the body. If an organ lights up on the scan, it means that the infection is there. For example, in hepatitis – an infection in the liver – the liver would light up. Or in pneumonia, one or both of the lungs light up." Delenn nodded, indicating that she understood his explanation. Franklin took another deep breath.

"Delenn, Lennier's entire body lit up. He has sepsis – an infection in his bloodstream. I don't know where it started, but it's spread throughout his whole body. It's everywhere."

Delenn swallowed past a dry throat, trying to process the information. "What…what does that mean?"

To his credit, Franklin met her eyes. She supposed he must have had a lot of practice delivering bad news, in his profession. But she doubted that this fact made it any easier.

"It means it's worse than we thought. Much worse."

"But he's not…" _No. No, don't even say it._

"We'll hit it hard, try to knock it out know before it gets any worse. Minbari are one of the strongest beings I've ever encountered. And I learned three months ago that while he might not look like it, Lennier's a fighter."

It was a good speech. Delenn would give it that. Franklin was trying so hard to raise her spirits and make her feel secure in the possible positive outcomes of this situation before he confirmed the negative ones. But she had a feeling she already knew them in her heart.

"But he could…die…from this?" She felt like she was choking on that word, that awful word. The war with the humans had taken so many people she cared about. Each and every loss had hurt her individually, each new episode of grief carving out new indentations, holes in her heart. But some deaths had been harder than others – one in particular, the first death, had made her soul feel as though it were being rent into a million pieces. But the thought of losing Lennier hurt her as nothing had since she had held Dukhat's lifeless body in her arms.

Franklin sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I'm afraid so," he said quietly. "Getting his fever down to a point where he's stable is going to be a major challenge. And sepsis is a very serious illness with a high mortality rate. We'll know more once the cultures come back. Right now I have no idea what the source of the infection was, but the pending test results should help with that too."

Delenn nodded slowly, automatically, her eyes on the floor. She suddenly felt as though she had reached her capacity for information she could process. Like a broken computer, her mind had shut down. But her heart…her heart was a different story. That felt like someone was wringing it like a wet cloth.

She barely felt Franklin lay his hand on her knee. When he said her name, she blinked and stared numbly into his eyes.

"Delenn, I know you and Lennier are very close, and that this is a lot to process. How are you doing?"

She didn't even want to begin to answer that question. It did not matter how _she_ was doing. All she knew was that Lennier needed her – and she needed to be with him. Her presence was the only thing she could give him – and she had to do _something_.

"Can I sit with him?" she whispered, trying and failing to keep her voice from quavering.

"Of course. He's still pretty heavily sedated, so it will likely be at least a couple of hours before he's responsive at all. I don't know what his state of mind will be like when he wakes up, but he definitely seems to respond well to you. I think having you here will do him good."

It was a sweet thing to say, and Delenn would have smiled at the doctor had she been in any state of mind to do so. Instead, she rose, dipped her head briefly, the engrained motion taking over, and walked back into the little room in the intensive care unit.

Lennier lay with his eyes closed, nestled beneath the large cooling pad. He seemed to be shaking a bit less, likely due to the sedative Franklin had given him, but his chest still rose and fell much too quickly. And he was _so_ pale – the Minbari were as a species quite fair-skinned, but Lennier looked positively ashen. The bed had been raised up again so the back was at a forty-five degree angle with the ground. Delenn hoped that Lennier was perhaps resting a bit more peacefully knowing that.

But looking at him, hooked up to more machines and devices than Delenn would have thought possible, made Delenn feel anything _but_ peace. Since the day Lennier had come onto the station, she had felt an innate need to protect him – he had been so young and innocent, naïve even. And even though he had learned much over the past two years and proven himself to be worldlier than she would have expected, that feeling had never gone away. But seeing him like this, so helpless and vulnerable, and knowing that there was nothing she could do to help him…she did not think she could bear it.

 _Not nothing._ She remembered what Doctor Franklin had said a few moments before, about her presence doing Lennier good. So, she would do what she could. She sat down again in the chair she had taken before and took Lennier's limp, much too warm hand in her own.

"I am here, Lennier," she whispered. "Just like you have always been for me. I am here - and I will not leave you. I promise."


	4. Raw Before the Universe

It was 19:47. Exactly two minutes after the last time he had checked his watch. John Sheridan fidgeted impatiently with the button on the sleeve of his shirt. Delenn was never late when it came to matters of state, but he hadn't had enough experience to judge if she was the same way with personal meetings. He hoped he would get to have more experience in this aspect. But right now, he was getting absolutely none, because Delenn was forty-seven…make that forty- _eight_ minutes late. He hadn't thought it possible for anyone to take longer getting ready for a date than a human female. Perhaps Minbari were even worse? He found that difficult to believe.

He was starting to get nervous. He _had_ intended this night to be a date. Ever since he had professed his love for Delenn as she lay in Medlab, he had been dying to take her out properly. They were a couple now…right? She had been more than amenable to that, or so it had seemed to him. What if he had imagined it? She'd been pretty badly injured at the time – what if she had been less lucid than he'd thought, and in truth she wanted nothing to do with him?

Sheridan shook his head. He was being ridiculous – letting his imagination get carried away with him. He liked to think of himself as being down-to-earth (down-to-station?), but when Delenn was involved, all bets were off. Here he was questioning everything and desperately hoping she truly felt the same way he did. He was truly overreacting. But all the same, he decided to go to Delenn's quarters and make sure everything was okay. That couldn't hurt, right?

He walked to the ambassadorial wing of Green Sector and, his heart fluttering more than he would have liked to admit, rang the chime. There was no answer. After a couple of more button-pushes that yielded the same result, he gave the speaker a try.

"Delenn, it's John…Sheridan." Did he need to clarify? Too late now. "We…we were supposed to go out to dinner tonight," he stammered. "It's okay if you forgot, or if you're busy," he quickly followed up. "I just wanted to…check in…" He trailed off. The door remained steadfastly closed. Either Delenn had absolutely _no_ desire to see or speak with him, or she wasn't at home. He decided to be optimistic, and assume the latter.

He could have just left it at that – perhaps Delenn had been called away on some urgent business and simply had not had the opportunity to inform him that she would be unable to meet him that night. But with everything that had been happening recently, it was more likely than not that any urgent business of Delenn's would be of importance to him as well. Something just didn't seem quite right to him. So he decided to pursue the matter.

The next logical thing to do was to see if Lennier knew where Delenn was, so Sheridan headed down the hall to his quarters. He was reluctant to disturb the polite Minbari aide after hours, especially since his workload, like the rest of theirs, had been so increased recently. But if anyone knew where Delenn was, it would be Lennier.

But there was no response from within Lennier's quarters, either. Sheridan just stood in the hallway for a minute, trying to figure out what to do next. For a moment, his mind flashed back to that terrible day less than a month previous…the last time he couldn't find Delenn. He'd felt sick to his stomach and hot with anger and dizzy with fear all at the same time, and he never wanted to feel that way again. To feel that way now would definitely be an overreaction – after all, then he had _known_ that she had been abducted and was being held by murderous psychopaths. For all he knew, right now she was in the middle of some involved Minbari meditation ritual, blissfully unaware of his concern for her. But something _could_ be wrong. And if it was, he needed to know. Sheridan headed back to Blue Sector.

Less than three minutes later, he stuck his head inside the security office. Garibaldi sat with his crossed feet propped up on his desk, a mug of coffee in one hand and a report in the other. He must have caught Sheridan's movement out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up, then rolled his chair backward and put his feet on the floor.

"Captain, hey. What's up?"

"Michael…I was hoping you could do something for me."

"Sure. What's going on?"

"It's probably nothing." Garibaldi raised an eyebrow, but let him finish. "It's just…I can't find Delenn. We were supposed to meet at the Zocalo for dinner an hour ago, but she never showed."

Garibaldi didn't even try to hide his grin. "Oo-ooo, the Captain's got da-ate!" he sang out happily.

"Well, the Captain _thought_ he had a date. Until his date didn't show up," grumbled Sheridan. "Look, I just want to make sure she's okay. Can you find her?"

"You try her quarters?"

"Yes, I tried her quarters."

"You try Lennier's quarters?"

" _Yes_ , I tried Lennier's quarters." Sheridan was starting to get annoyed, but Garibaldi seemed to have run out of really obvious questions just then, and his expression and tone got a little more serious.

"Okay. Yeah, let me see what I can do." Garibaldi tapped his link, the familiar _bleep_ ringing out too loudly through the little office.

"Yeah, Chief?" Sargent Allan's New York accent came through the little speaker.

"Hey, Zack. Have you see Ambassador Delenn? She missed…an appointment with the Captain and seems to have gone AWOL."

"Not today, personally. Hang on, let me ask the guys." Zack linked out for a moment, then came back on, sounding a bit more hesitant than he had before. "Chief? No one here's seen her today, but Anderson says Beckley went to Medlab to get some meds for a stomachache earlier and mentioned he thought he saw her there. No context – that's all I got."

"Thanks, Zack." Garibaldi signed off as Sheridan's stomach did a complete three hundred and sixty degree flip inside his abdomen. Delenn was in Medlab? Something _was_ really wrong. Desperately trying to stamp down the panic that was so strange to be feeling, he tried to tell himself that it couldn't possibly be _that_ bad – the security officer who had seen her there would have said if he had seen her actively dying or something like that. But then again, by this time it was fourth-hand information.

"Thanks, Michael. I have to go." He saw Garibaldi do a little wave out of the corner of his eye as he turned on his heel and took off running at full speed across Blue Sector. He practically burst through the door of Medlab, putting on the brakes suddenly to avoid crashing into a passing nurse. He lifted a hand in an awkward, apologetic wave, all the while looking around wildly. The nurse he had nearly bowled over took pity on him.

"She's in there."

Sheridan felt himself flush. She had known exactly who he was looking for. Did all two hundred and fifty thousand people on the station know how he felt about Delenn? But then he realized where the nurse was pointing. The ICU.

 _Delenn._

Swallowing hard, he turned toward the indicated direction. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and time seemed to slow down. But suddenly, almost before he could process what was happening, Delenn came flying through the door of the room the nurse had pointed to and threw herself into his arms. Sheridan felt more tension than he would have thought possible for one person to hold flow out of his body in the matter of an instant and let his arms encircle her, relief taking the place of his all-consuming worry. But it did not last, because he realized quickly that Delenn was crying. No, _sobbing_. Her hot tears soaked the collar of his dress shirt as she buried her face in his neck, and her whole body shook and hitched.

"Delenn," he murmured, her name sounding beautiful as ever as it passed his lips, despite the obvious gravity of the situation. "Delenn, what's the matter?"

"Oh John!" she sobbed, fighting to regain enough composure just to be able to tell him what was happening. "John, it's terrible! It's just terrible…"

"What?" Gently, he pulled her away from his body so he could look into her eyes. They were red-rimmed and wet, and her face was streaked with tears.

"It's Lennier," she managed to choke out. "Oh John, he's _so_ ill. Doctor Franklin does not know if he will recover, and I…" Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, and Sheridan instinctively tightened his grip on her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"John, I never told him how important he is to me. I always just assumed that he knew, but suddenly I realize that maybe that isn't enough. He is not just my aide; he is my friend. And a very dear friend at that. And if I lose him…" Delenn finally broke off from her ramblings as her tears overcame her again, and Sheridan drew her close. He just let her cry for a while, right there in the hallway of the ICU, dropping kisses into her hair and rubbing slow circles into her back with his hand. After what was probably several minutes, Delenn finally straightened, sniffling but clearly trying to regain her composure. Sheridan searched his pockets and managed to produce a clean handkerchief, which he held out to her. It was, of course, of no help in the greater situation at hand, but Sheridan was desperate to do _something_.

It was the second time he had seen Delenn truly heartbroken. The first had been after the Drafa plague had killed all of the Markab. Sheridan remembered walking down to the huge vault door, not knowing what he'd find but extremely certain in the knowledge that it couldn't be good. And the whole time, even back then, thoughts of one person had permeated his consciousness above all else. Thoughts of _her_. The memory of walking through the vault, sometimes unable to find a place to put his feet for the sheer number of dead bodies strewn everywhere still terrorized his dreams. It had been like being in an underground battlefield. And then he had found her, curled up in Lennier's arms. Both Minbari been silent, still, with haunted looks in their eyes like Sheridan hadn't seen since the war - the look of someone who had seen far too much death in far too short a time. Poor Lennier hadn't said a single word to anyone for two whole days after that. But Delenn…Delenn had thrown herself into Sheridan's arms, just like now. How he had wished then, and how he wished now, that he could take the pain away. He'd give _everything_ , he realized, if only Delenn wouldn't hurt anymore. But it didn't work like that – not then, and not now. So he did what he could, and he hoped she understood.

With trembling hands, Delenn accepted the proffered handkerchief and dabbed her eyes with it.

"I am sorry I didn't call you to say I'd miss dinner," she said, still clearly trying to keep her voice from shaking, and being only a little successful.

Sheridan realized he had completely forgotten about the reason he had even found himself there in the first place.

"Don't be sorry, Delenn," he said, taking her hand. "You being here for Lennier right now is so much more important than that."

Clearly he'd said the right thing, because she hugged him again. The embrace was considerably briefer this time, however – she soon pulled away and, silently, led him by the hand over to the window that looked into the intensive care room. Delenn pressed into Sheridan's side, her fingers entwined in his, as they looked in together.

Sheridan could see why Delenn was so upset. Lennier looked even worse than he'd imagined, just based on Delenn's disjointed, semi-hysterical ramblings. The young Minbari lay in the bed with his eyes closed. He was so sickly pale that it made the light blue markings on his head stand out. And while Minbari eyes tended to look sunken anyway, Lennier's were so much more so, which Sheridan knew to be a sign of dehydration. And Lennier was hooked up to a slew of medical devices – nasal oxygen cannula, pulse oximeter on the finger, twelve-lead electrocardiogram, IV fluid bag, the whole lot of it. Sheridan did, of course, know to expect this in an ICU, but it was difficult for him to see them on Lennier. Sheridan wasn't sure if he could comfortably call Lennier his friend – he didn't really know him well enough – but he did genuinely like him. Lennier was polite and kind, and he clearly meant the world to Delenn. So yeah - it was hard to see someone like that looking like some strange, pale robot being kept functioning by wires and tubes.

"What's wrong with him?" Sheridan couldn't think of a better way to word that question. He wished he could have.

Delenn drew a shaky breath. "Doctor Franklin says he has an infection in his bloodstream. Sepsis, he called it."

Sheridan tried too late to suppress his wince. He had seen _that_ before. During the war with the Minbari, he and a young Lieutenant had taken out a little scout ship to do recon. Unfortunately, a Minbari fighter had discovered them. Sheridan had managed to maneuver the ship out of the way so while they were hit by the enemy fire, they were not destroyed. But it had taken out their engines, and it had been all he could do to guide the ship down to a small moon. Luckily, the atmosphere had been conducive to human life, so life support hadn't been an issue. But in the landing process – which had definitely turned into more of a crash – Sheridan's companion had sliced his leg open on a piece of debris from the wreckage. Sheridan had managed to stop the bleeding, but with no antiseptic to clean the wound with, it had quickly become infected. It had been horrible to watch – the quick onset of fever, shaking, delirium – a once strong soldier reduced to a trembling wreck. And there was nothing Sheridan could do. Earthforce had found them three days after the crash. Sheridan had boarded the ship home alone.

Delenn obviously picked up on his reaction, because she turned to look at him, her gray eyes alight with worry.

"You have seen this before?"

There was no point in lying to her. "Yes. It…it's not a nice way to die." Delenn seemed to wilt like a flower whose owner had abandoned it in the absence of rain. Sheridan hurried to try to reassure her. "But Lennier is getting the best care I can think of – if anyone can help him, Doctor Franklin can. And he's got you at his side – that has to count for something."

"I hope you are right," Delenn murmured, her eyes fixated on the pale, still figure through the window. "I feel so helpless. I _hate_ this feeling."

"I know." Sheridan pressed her hand. "I know exactly how you feel." _Because I felt that way when you were bleeding in my arms, not so many days ago._ But he did not speak his thoughts – this was about Delenn and her feelings, not his own.

Delenn passed the handkerchief over her eyes once more. "I…I should go back and sit with Lennier. I promised him I would stay with him. He was so frightened in his last wave of delirium…I do not think he should be alone."

"I'm sure having you here means a lot to him," said Sheridan. His words were finally rewarded with the smallest of smiles from Delenn. Even though he couldn't argue that Delenn was right, a part of him called out for her to stay so he could continue to comfort her. But he refocused that desire.

"Delenn…is there _anything_ I can do?"

She rested a hand on his well-shaven cheek, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his chin, leaving just the faintest trace of a leftover tear on his skin.

"Only if you are a man of prayer."

He nodded once, taking her meaning. And then, with one last squeeze of his hand, she was gone. He stood at the window for a few moments, watching as she sat down in the little rolling chair, took Lennier's hand, and bowed her head. She sat still, then, obviously consumed by some doubtlessly intricate prayer. But despite the ritualistic nature of Minbari prayers, Sheridan could see by the emotion and determination etched on Delenn's face that this prayer was different – Delenn's soul was raw before the universe.

Deciding that there was nothing more he could do for Delenn, or Lennier for that matter, at the moment, Sheridan pulled himself away from the window. He wandered down the hall until he found himself at Franklin's office, and he was a little surprised to find the doctor in there rather than with one of his patients. A little impulsively, Sheridan stuck his head in the door.

"Stephen."

Franklin looked up from the screen he had been studying with an overabundance of intent.

"John. Hey." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

"You look pretty rough, if you don't mind my saying," said Sheridan, stepping fully into the office. "Are you okay?"

Sheridan thought he saw just the tiniest flicker of resentment in his friend's eyes, but it was masked almost before he could process it. In its place was simple, but strong exhaustion. Franklin sighed and massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands for a second.

"Yeah, I'm okay. But I've got one _very_ sick Minbari in my ICU, and I don't have the faintest clue why he's there."

Sheridan raised an eyebrow. He pulled out a chair that sat across from Franklin's desk and sat in it.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is yesterday Delenn and Marcus dragged Lennier in here because he'd collapsed, fully conscious, in the hallway. He protested, I checked him out - he was fine. No fever, just exhausted from the workload and pressure he's been under. And suddenly this afternoon I get a call from Delenn saying he's running a high fever. Now, a few years back, I went to a continuing education seminar and heard this great applied xenomedicine professor speak. He said that when dealing with our common alien species, there are three situations that should be considered an absolute medical emergency, no questions asked – chest pain in a Centauri, vomiting in a Pak'ma'ra, and high fever in a Minbari. They don't sweat – they can't cool themselves like we can, and it can get scary. Anyway, now Lennier's running a temp of well over a hundred and five, he's completely delirious, and his whole body's lighting up under a bacterial contamination scan."

"Sepsis," Sheridan said, trying to make sure he understood.

"Yeah, exactly. But the thing is, in most sepsis patients, the scan will show us where the source of the infection is located. Granted, the scans are internal only, but Lennier has no recent history of serious open wounds. It would have to be a pretty big contamination to overwhelm him like this. With a small cut or something, the body can usually fight off bugs that come in. You might get a little local infection – some swelling, maybe even draining pus. But this takes something big. I have no idea where the infection came from, and that worries me."

"Worries you how?" prompted Sheridan. He didn't like being thrown into a situation without being briefed first, and what was happening now felt exactly like that.

"He shouldn't be this sick," said Franklin, shaking his head. "It doesn't make any sense. And since I won't get the blood cultures back for over a day at least, all I can do now is treat empirically – give him the drugs I _think_ will help him the best. But I can't get him stable. He's asleep right now, even though the sedatives I gave him should have worn off a couple of hours ago. It's better that he sleeps – he shivers less and isn't anxious, so it's better for his body temperature. But the fact that this has brought him so low so fast really worries me." Franklin fidgeted in his chair, and but suddenly looked Sheridan intently in the eyes. "But don't tell Delenn that. Not just yet. She's upset enough as it is."

Sheridan nodded. "All right, not for now. But went it comes down to it, I won't keep the truth from her. But I really hope it doesn't." He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag. "She's positively heartbroken, Stephen."

"I know," murmured Franklin. "I saw the two of you out in the hallway. And honestly, I'm glad she finally cried. She's been holding on by a thread all afternoon, trying to be strong for Lennier. She does know that this might not end well, and she's having difficulty accepting it, understandably. She's been through a lot these past few years, and I think having Lennier here for the past two has really helped her. The thought of losing him has shaken her to her core."

"She's even more upset now than she was when he was in a coma after the explosion," said Sheridan softly, and Franklin sighed.

"To be completely honest with you, I think she feels guilty this time. Yesterday, after Lennier collapsed, she kept talking about how terrible she felt for working him too hard and how it was all her fault. Now that the situation's escalated so much, I can only imagine how much worse she's feeling about it."

"But it _isn't_ her fault!" exclaimed Sheridan, unable to help but feel a little angry at what Franklin was insinuating. The doctor held up his hands.

"Of course it's not. I know that, you know that, and Lennier was mortified that she would even suggest it. Delenn's emotions are so fragile right now that she can't even begin to process what may or may not be her fault. But I think that her being here is good for both of them. She feels like she's doing _something_ , and her presence genuinely does calm him down. She's the only one he seems to recognize in his delirium, and he seems more comfortable with her around."

Sheridan sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, thinking. Finally, he straightened up and looked back at the doctor, leveling him one of his signature intense gazes.

"Stephen, he has to live. For Delenn's sake, Lennier _has_ to live."

"John, I'm doing everything I can," said Franklin calmly. "You know that."

Sheridan blinked, feeling suddenly bad about what he had just said. "Of course you are. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"Because you care about her," said Franklin simply. "You can't stand to see her hurt any more than she can stand to watch Lennier suffer. Love makes us do things we would never otherwise expect, or even fathom, from ourselves."

"Yeah," said Sheridan, a bit absently, turning to look at the wall, on the other side of which lay the ICU hallway. "Yeah. I guess it does." He sighed and turned back to Franklin. "I imagine you've got a lot of work – I'll leave you to it. Let me know if there's anything I can do. And Stephen…thanks. I know you'll give everything you've got, and more. I don't think I tell you often enough how much I appreciate what you do around here."

Franklin's smile was genuine, but heartwrenchingly sad. "Thanks. I just hope it's enough."

Sheridan once again stared down the hallway, picturing Delenn in his mind as she no doubt was now – bowed over her stricken friend, grief and worry threatening to overwhelm her more with every second. His heart ached.

"Yeah, me too."


	5. Those Who Hurt, and Those Who Comfort

Vir Cotto stared into his drink, his hearts sinking more with each passing minute. He didn't know why he was so upset about this – it was, after all, such a small thing. But then again, wasn't it the little things in life that made it truly good?

For several months now, he and Lennier had been meeting regularly – sometimes even daily – at a bar in the Zocalo, to drink and to talk. Of course, Lennier couldn't drink alcohol, but the idea was the same. On their busiest days, when their worlds were falling apart, their meetings could be as short as a minute – just long enough to know that they were not the only ones who felt like they were drowning in their troubles. But on other days, they spent longer, talking and listening, and appreciating one another's friendly companionship. It was, Vir thought, a rather nice arrangement. And now that Vir had been recalled from Minbar back to Babylon 5 for an extended period of time, he had really been looking forward to – and in need of – their regular ritual.

He had first met Lennier at this very bar, in fact, not long after Lennier had first come aboard the station. Vir had, as was his custom, been sitting drinking at the bar when he'd happened to glance to his right and seen the young Minbari, whom he vaguely recognized as Delenn's new aide, sitting by himself at a two-person table in the corner, looking out into the crowded establishment. He wasn't doing anything that Vir could tell – not drinking, not talking to anyone. He did not appear to be scanning the crowd, either, as though waiting for someone. He was just…sitting there.

Vir had no idea what the Minbari was doing, but in Vir's mind, anyone sitting alone at a bar might very likely be lonely. After all, Vir sat alone in bars all the time, and most of the time _he_ was lonely. So he picked up his drink and took it over to the little table.

"Hi," he began. He wasn't really sure how else _to_ begin. The Minbari blinked and looked up at him. Vir thought that it was a bit odd in that he in no way looked surprised – it was almost as though he had been expecting him to come over.

"Hello," the Minbari replied, his face bereft of expression besides perhaps mild curiosity.

"I saw you sitting alone…and I was sitting alone…so I was wondering if you wanted to sit together? Unless you're busy, of course," said Vir quickly. The little Minbari certainly didn't look busy, but it was entirely possible he was in the middle of some intricate ritual that Vir had just ruined. Of course that would be just his luck – a potential new friend and the first thing he did was offend him.

"I would like that very much." The Minbari did not seem offended – he even smiled a little - and Vir breathed an internal sigh of relief. He placed his drink on the table and sat down in the chair across from the Minbari.

"I'm Vir Cotto, diplomatic attaché to Ambassador Londo Mollari of the Centauri Republic," he said. Despite all of the difficulties that came with his job, he did rather enjoy introducing himself with his full title. It made him feel important, but he quickly realized that maybe a potential friendship required a little less formality. So he added, "You can call me Vir. You're Ambassador Delenn's new aide, right?"

The Minbari nodded. "I am Lennier, of the Third Fane of Chudomo." He cupped one hand inside the other, touched the tips of this thumbs together, and bowed. Vir was a bit flattered. He had, of course, seen Minbari make this gesture before – he knew it to be a sign of respect. But he had never had one bow _to_ _him_ before. He wasn't sure if he should bow back or not, but while he was contemplating this, enough time went by that it would have been awkward to do so. So he just sat there looking slightly giddy, which wasn't really any less awkward.

"Can I ask what you're doing?" he said, wanting to move the conversation along but also genuinely curious.

"I am observing," said Lennier simply.

"Ah." Vir tried to make it sound like he understood, but then he realized that it was still very clear that he did not. "Sorry, I'm not sure I follow. Observing…what?"

"The people," replied Lennier. When Vir still looked confused, he continued. "Before I came to Babylon 5, I spent my whole life – or at least all of it that I can remember – in a temple on Minbar. It was a wonderful experience, and I learned so much. But it did not exactly allow me to…venture out and experience new things. And now that I am here, I have suddenly found myself surrounded by so many different races and cultures. I have read about many of them, but now that I am here amongst them, I find that I am not as prepared to interact with them as I thought I was. So I am observing them, and trying to learn."

"That's really neat," said Vir, and he meant it. Even though the Minbari's endeavor seemed a bit strange to him, Vir could see that Lennier was very eager to learn, and he admired that. And since in Vir's line of work it was so often better _not_ to learn certain things, he was almost jealous, but not in a bad way. "Would you like a drink while you observe?"

"Oh." Lennier blinked. "No thank you."

So he wasn't comfortable enough to drink around Vir. Vir couldn't help but feel a little bit disheartened by this. Lennier must have picked up on this, because he quickly elaborated.

"I appreciate the offer. It's just that Minbari cannot drink alcohol."

 _Couldn't drink alcohol?_ How terrible. What must their lives be like? Vir couldn't imagine. He found himself unable to hold his curiosity at bay.

"Why not?"

"It causes us to have terrible reactions. Even one sip can lead to homicidal rages and uncontrollable psychotic impulses."

Vir squinted at him, wondering for a moment if Lennier was having him on. But then he remembered that Londo had told him once that Minbari never lied – they rarely told the whole truth, but they didn't _lie_. And Lennier had probably the most honest expression of anyone he'd ever met – not that he had much to compare it to, dealing mostly with other Centauri.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Drinking alcohol is very important in my culture. It's difficult to imagine not being able to do it."

Lennier's brown eyes brightened suddenly. "I'd love to learn more about your culture. I mean, I'd love to learn more about _any_ culture. _All_ the cultures. But I don't know too much about the Centauri."

Vir suspected that the enthusiastic, book-smart little Minbari knew more than he was letting on, but his eagerness got to Vir, and he smiled.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, as a priest…or former priest, I suppose, I am particularly interested in religion. Is it true that the Centauri have forty-nine gods in your pantheon?"

"Yes! Or at least…I think…" Vir paused and counted on his fingers. Lennier looked very confused. "Sorry. It's just that our emperors are often elevated to godhood, and then de-elevated, and then back again. I think the pantheon changes on a daily basis." Now that he said it out loud, Vir thought the belief system of the Centauri must sound a little ridiculous to someone else, but Lennier nodded in understanding.

"I see. That's fascinating!" There was absolutely no trace of sarcasm in his voice. Vir doubted he was actually capable of such a thing. So Vir told him about the Great Maker, and many of the other early gods. Lennier looked positively enthralled the entire time. His excitement and enthusiasm were infectious, and Vir found he genuinely enjoyed talking to him. But as much as he liked to talk, he got tired after about the fifteenth deity.

"Maybe we'll save the rest for another time?" he asked. Lennier looked slightly disheartened, but replied all the same,

"Yes, of course. Thank you for all of the information. It was been most interesting."

Vir took a sip of his drink. "So…what about you? You said you were raised in a temple? That's really neat. I'd love to hear about your life."

Lennier lit up for a moment, but suddenly he seemed to wilt, sadness veiling his bright eyes.

"What is it?" asked Vir. He had known Lennier all of an hour, but seeing that look on his face broke his heart.

"You…you don't want to hear about me. My life isn't very interesting." Lennier stared at the table, looking defeated.

"Why do you say that?"

"I have been…reliably informed."

Suddenly, Vir felt angry. He didn't know who had told Lennier he was boring, but Vir, who was not a violent person, wanted to strangle them.

"Well, _I_ am very interested. Your life certainly sounds different from mine – I'll bet it's a great story."

Lennier finally looked up from the table, met Vir's eyes, and smiled gratefully. And then he told his story – how he had lived in the temple since before he could remember, of his studies (mathematics, history, linguistics, and self defense, amongst others), of what his life had been like before he had come to Babylon 5. Vir could see where one might potentially find the story boring – there was a lot to it – but only if one were heartless and cruel. Anyone who _looked_ could see what a passionate person Lennier was – the way his eyes lit up as he spoke, the way his voice rose just the tiniest bit in volume when he got to the parts that excited him the most - and that in itself was entertainment enough for Vir. Lennier was so eager to share the things he cared about with others, and Vir, for one, felt honored to have been chosen to hear about them.

"Thank you," said Lennier when he had finished at long last. "For listening. I…tend to get a bit overexcited when I talk about things I enjoy. Most people just pretend to listen. But you really did."

"Well," said Vir, "the way I see it, if someone shares their story or something they're interested in, they're entrusting you with a little piece of themselves. That deserves a good listen, don't you think?"

Lennier smiled warmly and nodded. "I do." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I ought to be getting back. Delenn will probably be wondering where I am."

"And Londo might actually have noticed I'm gone," chuckled Vir. "We should do this again soon – talk like this, I mean. It was fun."

"I agree," replied Lennier earnestly. He stood up and bowed once more to Vir, who felt pleasantly flustered all over again, before leaving. And Vir had been happy that day, because he had just had the feeling that he had just experienced the start of a really good friendship.

 _And it has been_ , thought Vir now. _Or at least so far._ Due to the busyness of their respective schedules and the immense stress they and everyone close to them had been under as of late, the past few weeks he and Lennier had been meeting daily but extremely briefly, only exchanging a few sentences. It was unfortunate that they had not had the time to really _talk_ recently, as they both enjoyed that very much. But at least their brief meetings allowed them to know they were not alone in this big, scary universe.

The previous day, Vir had waited at the bar at their prearranged time. But for the first time ever, Lennier had not come.

That wasn't strictly true. They had both missed meetings. It was to be expected – so many last-minute emergencies needed to be dealt with when you were a diplomatic attaché on Babylon 5. But they always messaged if they knew they were not going to be able to make it. Yesterday there had been no message. But there had been no Lennier, either. And today, it was looking as though the same thing were going to be true. Vir could not help but wonder what he had done wrong. But his whole family had decided they wanted nothing to do with him – why shouldn't his friend decide the same thing? He took a long drink from his glass and sighed sadly.

"Honestly, if all you are going to do is sit at a bar and act depressed, I don't see why I bother to give you breaks at all."

Vir jumped at the all too familiar, heavily accented voice behind him.

"Londo! I didn't see you there."

"Yes, well, that's understandable. You seemed quite busy being dejected." Londo lowered himself into the empty chair next to Vir – the chair Lennier was _supposed_ to be sitting in.

"The usual," he said to the bartender. Vir was fairly certain Londo had a "usual" at every bar on the station. Vir stared into his own drink, not even really feeling like drinking it anymore.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" Londo asked, nodding to the bartender as his pinkish-purple concoction of choice was placed in front of him and taking a long swig of it, downing nearly half in the first drink. "You look, as the humans say, like you have lost your best friend."

Vir winced. "That might not be too far off track."

Londo raised one voluminous eyebrow as he lifted his drink to his lips again, but in more of a sip than a swig this time. "Do tell."

Vir sighed. He had never told Londo about his meetings with Lennier. They were his own business, and Londo had no reason to know. It was nice to have at least _some_ things in his life that he kept private from his bombastic employer, who often had too much time on his hands and tended to meddle in things other people would prefer he kept out of. But what harm could it do at this point, really? So he told Londo about his and Lennier's little ritual, and how this was the second day in a row Lennier hadn't come, and Vir hadn't heard from him. He half expected Londo to laugh at his obvious insecurities – after all, there were many other possible explanations for Lennier's absence besides Vir having committed some unknown offense. But to Vir's surprise, Londo's expression darkened as Vir told his story.

"What?" Vir asked, not even trying not to sound annoyed. He had been uncomfortable with this situation _before_ Londo had walked in. And now Londo sat there looking like he had some sort of terrible knowledge pertaining to Vir's situation, despite not having known anything about it thirty seconds prior.

Londo did not react to Vir's irked tone, which sealed Vir's worry all the more firmly.

"Ah, Vir," sighed Londo, staring into the ironically cheery tones of his mostly-finished drink. "It isn't you."

"How do you know?" Vir all but snapped. Londo held up a hand, and Vir backed off, letting him finish talking.

"I was talking with Mr. Garibaldi just now." He jerked a thumb in the general direction behind him, indicating that the conversation had taken place in the bar just before he'd stumbled across Vir. "He says he heard from Captain Sheridan that poor Lennier has been taken quite ill."

"Ill?" echoed Vir softly, his perception of the situation suddenly doing a full one hundred-eighty degree turn. His desolation turning to concern, he stammered, "is…is it serious?"

"Yes, it's very serious," replied Londo gravely. "Apparently the poor thing is in Medlab fighting for his life, and Delenn has not left his side the entire time. It really is a shame – he is a bit strange, that Lennier, but he is a good person. I must say I am rather fond of him."

Vir did not even bother to mention that Lennier had, in fact, saved Londo's life not three months prior and nearly died in the process, and that because of this "fond" was maybe not a sufficient term. He was too busy fighting down the sudden disquieting of his drink within his stomach. It _couldn't_ be true, could it? Londo was quite prone to exaggeration. And Lennier was strong, though he might not look it. He probably just had a bad case of the Drazian flu, and Londo was just trying to keep Vir on his toes. That must be it. But all the same, Vir suddenly had the overwhelming urge to go to Medlab and see if his friend was indeed there.

"I…I have to go. I'll see you later." Vir left his unfinished drink on the bar and left without looking back at Londo. When he reached Medlab, Doctor Franklin was just coming out of his office. The doctor looked exhausted, which Vir thought could not be a good sign. He looked up, seemingly vaguely surprised to see Vir.

"Vir. Is there something I can do for you?"

When had his throat gotten so dry? Vir swallowed, but his words came out sounding raspy anyway.

"Is…is Lennier here?"

Franklin's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. He is." He pointed at a nearby room. Both of Vir's hearts sank to his shoes when he saw the label "ICU" on the door.

"Thanks," he whispered.

 _It can't be that bad. It just can't be,_ he kept telling himself as he approached the door, but the look on the doctor's face had made it even harder to convince himself of this all the time. And then he stood at the door, left open to allow Franklin and the nurses quick access to the room, and realized just how wrong he had been. Lennier wasn't just ill – he seemed to be unconscious, his breathing fast and shallow. Delenn sat at his side, just as Londo had said. Her back was facing Vir, but he could tell that she was holding Lennier's hand in one of her own and stroking his cheek slowly with the backs of the fingers of the other. She was saying something, so softly that Vir could scarcely hear it, and because of the low volume it took him several seconds to recognize that it was in a language he did not understand.

 _Adronato._ He was unsure from where the word came within his thoughts. Lennier must have mentioned it during one of their conversations. He had heard it spoken before, in bits and pieces by various Minbari on the station. The syllables had always sounded harsh and clipped to him, but as Delenn murmured them so gently to the stricken Lennier, her voice trembling almost imperceptibly, they seemed fluid, almost musical. It was lovely to listen to, even though Vir had no idea what she was saying.

But Lennier did not respond. He just lay there, whiter than a freshly pressed shirt, and _so_ still. It wasn't right. Hadn't they _just_ sat at the bar together, talking about current events and their ambassadors and making each other smile despite the never-quite-ending stresses of their lives? This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

 _But it is._ The reality caught up with Vir suddenly, and he tried and failed to stifle a little sob. Delenn raised her head at the sound and glanced over her shoulder, Lennier's hand still in her own. She looked a little surprised to see Vir, but that surprise was tempered by a combination of affection, exhaustion, and an almost overwhelming worry. Vir opened his mouth to speak, to ask one of a million questions he had, the most pressing of which being _will he be all right? Please tell me he'll be all right._ But Delenn lifted a finger to her lips. Then she turned back around and with the greatest of care rested Lennier's hand back on the bed and briefly touched her lips to his forehead, the tenderness and emotion in the gestures making Vir wish all the more that Lennier were awake. Even though Lennier had never admitted to it, Vir knew he craved Delenn's affection more than anything in the world. Surely this would make him feel better.

Delenn stood, took Vir's arm, and urged him out of the little room. Then, much to Vir's surprise, she embraced him. Vir hugged her back, unsure of what to do, but recognizing that the both of them probably needed a hug right about then.

"I am sorry to have ushered you out of the room like that," she said, her voice a bit scratchy, as though she hadn't been drinking quite enough water. "Lennier needs to rest as much as he can. I am not sure if he _can_ hear us, but it seems best to provide a quiet environment for him all the same."

Vir stared past her through the window, unable to take his eyes off of his friend. He could see the vitals monitor Lennier was hooked up to. Vir did not know much of anything about medicine, but even he knew that the temperature on the screen was much, much too high. And lying there, Lennier looked inches away from death, as though each breath could be his last.

That last thought came before Vir could stop it. He'd been trying so hard not to think about the possibility of Lennier dying, because he didn't think he could handle it. But there it was.

"Vir?" Delenn's muted inquiry was accompanied by her soft hand on his arm. He turned to face her finally, but the image of his friend lying in the hospital bed stayed with him even when he wasn't looking at him.

"Londo wasn't exaggerating," he whispered. His entire body suddenly felt as though it were drooping – from the highest points of his crest down to the tips of his toes.

"What do you mean?" Puzzlement pushed its way past the worry etched on Delenn's face.

"I…I thought for sure he was exaggerating. He does it so much, you know? I just thought he was keeping me on my toes – he doesn't always do that in the nicest way. But he was right. About all of it." He broke off because his voice had started to shake. Understanding dawned on Delenn's face and she squeezed his arm.

"Oh, Vir," she whispered. Her gray eyes were dull with pain and the kind of exhaustion that only the constant onslaught of worry for the life of someone you care about can bring. "I am afraid it is every bit as bad as you might have heard. Lennier is truly very ill."

She told him what the doctor had said – that Lennier had an infection in his bloodstream, and that the doctor did not yet know what had caused it. That Lennier had been in and out of consciousness for the past day and a half, the brief times he was awake marred by confusion brought on by his terribly high fever. Her voice trembled when she told Vir of Lennier's uncertain prognosis, news which made Vir need to fight the urge to be sick right there on the hospital floor.

"Doctor Franklin will find something," he said, when he had managed to get his roiling stomach under control. "He'll figure out what's gone wrong and find a way to fix it. He has to." There was simply no way this could play out otherwise. He was in denial of the truth – he knew that. But he had to allow his brain time to adjust, or he'd be no use to anyone.

"I hope you are right, Vir," murmured Delenn, wringing her hands absently. "Forgive me, I did not know how close the two of you were – I would have let you know of this yesterday. I knew you spent time together occasionally, but it appears I underestimated the strength of your friendship. Lennier does not talk much of his personal life to me, though I wish he would."

"I…I would imagine his focus is always on you when he's working," said Vir. He doubted Lennier would like for him to be discussing anything about his relationship with Delenn with anyone, especially not Delenn herself. But he _needed_ to talk, and to think about Lennier in some form other than his current one.

"Yes, very much so. His attention never wavers." Delenn smiled sadly. "I am afraid I take him for granted sometimes – he is _always_ there when I need him, ready to serve or to be my companion, whichever I may need. He is such a constant in my life that I fear I too often forget to tell him how important he is to me. How much I need him."

She stared through the window at Lennier, her bottom lip trembling.

"He knows," whispered Vir, almost before he knew what he was saying. Delenn turned to face him, eyes searching his face with a cautious yet desperate hope.

"I mean..." Vir continued, a little louder this time, "it might be nice to hear it sometimes, but he knows. All he wants is to make you happy. If you're happy, he's happy. And maybe now, knowing that him getting better will make you happy, he'll do it. Get better, I mean." He was starting to ramble, and he knew that when that happened it was best if he stopped talking. But he would have stopped anyway, because Delenn suddenly threw her arms around him.

"Oh Vir," she whispered. "If only that were all it took. But thank you, all the same." She stepped back. "Would you like to speak to him? I do not know if he is aware of what is happening around him, but in Minbari culture we believe that providing comfort to the ailing is of the highest benefit, both to those who hurt and those who comfort. So, I have been sitting with him, hoping that my voice and my touch will somehow reach him, wherever he is."

Vir nodded. "I would. Thank you, Delenn." He turned toward the door, but when she made no move to follow him, undoubtedly wishing to give them privacy, he turned back. "You…you should come too. I mean, I hope it'll be nice for him to hear from me, but you're the one whose presence matters the most to him. If anyone can get through to him, it's you."

Delenn's eyes shown with tears and gratefulness, but she said not a word as she followed him into Lennier's hospital room. They each took a chair, one on either side of the bed. Delenn resumed holding Lennier's right hand, this time running her thumb repeatedly over his knuckles. She was completely focused on Lennier, so Vir felt as though he was almost alone with his friend.

As Vir looked at Lennier, so surreally still and pale in that bed, as though he were made of wax, he felt his throat go dry. It felt like someone had forced him to eat spoo that hadn't been aged properly. He swallowed hard, but it did little good, and so his words came out a hoarse whisper.

"Hey, Lennier." His friend did not respond, not even a blink. He had expected this, but he felt disappointed all the same, as though he'd been hoping against hope that his voice would have some kind of magical healing effect. It had been far too much to hope for, of course. "It's me, Vir. I've missed you these past couple of days. Sitting in the bar just isn't the same if you're not around to talk to. But it's okay – you take your time and get good and strong again. I'll be fine. And when you're better, you can tell me all about every single one of the rituals you ever learned in temple. I know you've always wanted to, but you've held back because you think I'd be bored. But I'll listen, really and truly. I'm sure it'll be fascinating. I mean that." He drew a shaky breath, his hold over his own emotions slipping dangerously. "But you have to get better, okay Lennier? Please get better. Because if you don't…I'll miss you a lot. A whole lot. I can't imagine not having you around."

Vir felt tears welling up in his eyes, and in an effort to hold them in he bit his bottom lip so hard that his sharp canines very nearly pierced through it. He felt a hand on his arm and for a moment his hearts jumped in excitement. But then he looked down to see that Lennier was as still as ever. The hand was, of course, Delenn's. He could see her eyes shining even through the blurriness in his own.

"I…I should be getting back to Londo," he said, standing and scrubbing furiously at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Yes, of course," whispered Delenn. "Thank you for coming, Vir. I am sure it means very much to Lennier, to know how much you care."

He nodded, inhaling deeply, willing the air to flow past the tightening he felt in his throat. "Will you...will you let me know…?"

Delenn nodded, and Vir left, saying "bye" softly, almost as an afterthought, so distracted was he by the thoughts rolling around inside his head. As he walked slowly back to Londo's quarters, it was as though he noticed nothing of his surroundings, did not take note of a single thing that was happening around him.

He felt distant for the rest of the day. Londo noticed, he knew. But for once, he was merciful, and did not comment. Vir was grateful. But it still took a very long time for him to fall asleep that night.


	6. Managing Through Faith Alone

It was nearly midnight that night when Lennier opened his eyes.

After Franklin had initially sedated him following his panicked frenzy, he had slept well past the time the doctor had said the sedation would last. He had slept _so_ long that Delenn had begun to worry he might not wake up again. But Franklin had reassured her – Lennier was very weak, and his body needed all the strength it could get to fight the infection. And when he slept, his temperature was the tiniest bit lower. Delenn had understood all of this, but what frightened her most was the fact that this did not seem to be _sleep_ as she understood it. It was closer to unconsciousness. Lennier did not stir even the slightest – not when the doctor and nurses poked him with needles or touched him in examination, and not when she held his hand and spoke to him. It was as though he were in a coma, as he had been only a few short months before, but at least then he had been stable. Delenn had not missed the worry on Franklin's face every time he looked at the temperature readout on the monitor. The number had finally stopped rising, but it staunchly refused to drop, no matter how many cooling pads or anti-fever drugs they tried.

Lennier had awoken once between then and now, a few hours before Vir had come. Delenn, eyes closed, had been murmuring one of the most ancient prayers she knew, a relatively simple, yet comforting prayer for peace. It was one that all Minbari of the Religious Caste knew well, one of the first they were taught in the temple as children. She had hoped that its message and familiarity would be of comfort to Lennier, if he could hear her at all.

Suddenly, she had felt his hand shudder within hers, and she had opened her eyes to see him looking back at her. But she had not even had time to hope that he might be lucid, for the instant he had seen her, tears had began to run down his face, and his body had hitched with sobs. Delenn had not been able to help but think how mortified Lennier would be once his mind was clear again to know he had exhibited such an open and unabashed display of emotions in her presence. So she had resolved never to tell him if it turned out he did not remember, and she had gathered him up in her arms as best she could whilst being mindful of all of the monitoring equipment and the line of precious, life-preserving antibiotics that were attached to him.

"What is it, Lennier?" she had murmured, stroking his cheek as he pressed into her. He had been unable to respond for a couple of minutes, fresh waves of tears inundating him every time he tried to speak.

"I'm sorry," he had whimpered finally. "I'm s…so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Delenn had asked. Lennier was so delirious that she had little doubt he knew not what he said, but all the same she wished to put his mind at ease as much as possible.

"I…I'm being such a burden on you," he had stammered. "You have s…so much to worry about without me b…being ill…"

"No," she had said, her heart feeling like it was tearing apart within her chest. Did he really think that he was nothing more to her than another problem? "Oh no, Lennier. You are not a burden. Not you. Never you. You are my dear, dear friend, and I want nothing more than to stay here with you until you are well."

"Oh, Delenn…" he had whimpered, and she had kissed the top of his head, the sky blue skin burning against her lips. They had sat there for several minutes with him nestled in her arms, his shoulders still shaking and his tears continuing to fall. Delenn had run her hand up and down his arm, murmuring reassurances over and over again. But then, he had suddenly become more anxious, his breath quickening and his sobs sounding more like chokes. Delenn had tried to remain calm and kept comforting him, knowing that the delirium was dangerously close to dragging him completely back under, away from her.

"It is all right, Lennier," she'd soothed. "Everything is going to be all right."

"Delenn…" His eyes had been _so_ bright, the dangerous fire of fever burning hot behind them. "Delenn, please don't leave me. Please, Delenn, I'm scared." He'd sounded so pitiful and child-like; nothing like the calm, brave Lennier she knew.

"I won't. I won't leave you. I will be right here, Lennier." He was slipping away from her, and even though she had known it was inevitable and that he needed the rest, she desperately wanted him to stay. He needed her comfort so much, and at least now she knew he could hear her. But he was fading fast, so she had continued to reassure him that she would stay with him until his eyelids had fluttered closed, and he had been lost to her once more. And then she had allowed tears of her own to fall on top of his head, feeling a helplessness she had not experienced in a long, long time.

After awhile she had regained what she could of her composure and repositioned Lennier in the bed. Then she had taken a shaking breath, grasped her friend's hand in her own, and resumed speaking to him in Adronato, repeating prayers and words of comfort until Vir had come. But after the Centauri had left, Delenn's exhaustion had begun to catch up with her. It was another effect of her encounter with the Chrysalis Device - she no longer possessed the ability to function with no sleep for days on end that Minbari did. Humans were fragile creatures, and for better or for worse, she was now bound by their physical constraints. She had laid her arms on the small sliver of bed next to Lennier, buried her face in them, and slept. It had been a light sleep – there was no way she could rest adequately there, with the noises and lights and discomfort and worry. So when she heard her name, spoken so softly it was nearly inaudible, she was instantly alert.

"Delenn." It was barely a breath, but there it was. She sat up quickly, ignoring the pain in her neck and back that had come from sleeping in a less than ideal position. Her heart fluttered with joy momentarily when she saw that the brown eyes that looked into hers were clear and coherent. Hoping desperately that Lennier's fever had broken, she looked behind her at the monitor. Her heart sank. His temperature was still as high as ever. It was an aberration, then. But a good one all the same.

"Lennier," she whispered, resting her hand on his cheek. "Oh, Lennier, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"Nor yours," he murmured. He inhaled shakily, as though the muscles in his chest were running out of energy to breathe. "Delenn, I do not remember…why am I in Medlab? I…I feel terrible."

"You've been very ill, Lennier," she explained, taking his hand in both of her own. "You have a high fever, and it has made you very weak."

He swallowed hard, wincing a little. Delenn knew that he was being maintained on intravenous fluids to keep him from getting dehydrated, but not having drunk any water for nearly two days in addition to the constant onslaught of the supplemental oxygen had likely taken its toll on his throat. She squeezed his hand comfortingly, the action habitual by this point. He studied her, and she could tell that he was trying his hardest to think and remember, but the fever and exhaustion were tempering his ability to do so. But then something flickered behind his eyes.

"You…you've been here…the entire time, haven't you?"

She nodded silently. The look of horrified awe that passed over his face was not entirely unexpected.

"Delenn, you shouldn't…not for me…" He trailed off, the fever rendering him incapable of articulating exactly what he wished. Delenn pressed his hand gently where it still rested between her own, and his gaze dropped away from her face, as it so often did. It had always been such a struggle to get him to look up, to look _at_ her, even now that their bond was so much stronger than it had been two years ago when he had stepped off the transport and refused to meet her eyes until she had ordered him to do so. Even at this moment, so ill he could hardly speak, he put her needs in front of his own, making the gesture of respect. In his mind, she was more important than him. She did not share that view, and it was time he knew it.

"Lennier, look at me," she murmured. "Please."

Slowly, he obeyed. He was trembling, though whether that was from the fever or the agony of knowing he was causing her pain, she did not know. She smiled to let him know he had done well.

"Not so long ago, you swore yourself to my side, did you not?"

"Yes, but…" He began to protest, but she held up a hand, and he quieted.

"Lennier, in order for you to be at my side, I must in turn be at yours. That is how physics works, is it not?"

The disquiet on his face changed to a humble affection and incredible gratefulness, and Delenn smiled at the sight of it. He understood.

"Oh, Delenn…" he whispered. "I can't…can't tell you what that means to me." He was shaking harder now, and his voice was growing weaker, but he pressed onward all the same. "It's incredibly selfish of me, but…I'm so glad you're here." The words were humble, but to her surprise and happiness, he held her gaze as he spoke them.

"It is not selfish in the least," she murmured. "You are my incredibly dear friend, and if there is any comfort I can provide you, I would move the entire universe off its axis to do it."

She reached up to rest her hand on his cheek, but despite his trembling he caught it, and brought it to rest over his heart. It was such a sweet gesture, so full of gratitude and affection. Delenn smiled but lost the battle against her tears, cursing herself silently – she had staunchly resolved not to cry in front of Lennier while he was awake, knowing that he needed her to be strong. But she felt so raw, with so many emotions squeezing on her heart, that she had no defenses left.

She heard Lennier whisper her name and she immediately rubbed at her eyes with her hand in an effort to be attentive to him. He was getting weaker by the moment, she could tell. His hand had dropped where he had held hers against his chest, and she was beginning to need to strain to hear his voice.

"Delenn, it…it's not good, is it?"

She did not need to ask him of what he spoke – she knew exactly what he meant. Up until now, every time he had woken, he had been so delirious and confused that she had constantly reassured him that everything would be all right so he would not agitate himself into an even higher fever. But now, though incredibly weak, he was clear-headed. She could not, _would_ not, lie to him - he meant far too much to her for that. She inhaled shakily, hoping she could manage to hold the tears at bay this time.

"No, Lennier. It isn't." She swallowed, her throat dry, as he lowered his gaze, this time doubtlessly to avoid her seeing the pain and fear in his eyes. She saw it anyway, and rested a hand on his arm.

"But Doctor Franklin isn't going to give up, and neither am I. There is hope, Lennier. There is always hope."

He met her gaze again, and for a moment he looked at her with what could only be described as love. She took his hand and pressed it, willing the moment to last. She did not have much time with him, she knew.

Indeed, a darkness flickered across Lennier's face after only a few seconds. He began to look panicked, the tranquility of the previous moment shattered.

"Delenn," he whispered, his eyes searching her desperately, as though he were trying to cement a picture of her in his mind. "Delenn, I can't…I can't stay."

"It's all right," she whispered. "Sleep now – save your strength for the fight ahead. For fight you will, Lennier, and I _know_ you can win." She felt the tears sliding down her face again, and her voice trembled as she spoke the words that had guided them both through times of turmoil and distrust and fear, the mantra of their caste. But never had she clung to them with such desperate hope.

"Faith manages, Lennier."

As Lennier's eyes closed, the corners of his mouth twitched upward briefly in the ghost of a smile. And then it was gone, and he was once again lost in the unbreakable sleep of the deeply feverish.

"Rest now, my dearest friend. I will be here when you wake, and in all the moments between," Delenn whispered.

 _Just please, please wake up again._

Doctor Stephen Franklin had had better days. Better weeks, in fact. Actually, if he was to be completely honest, better months. Things weren't good.

He had become a doctor because he wanted to help people. Because he _cared_. But what he hadn't realized was how very real compassion fatigue was – the exhaustion brought on by too _much_ caring for other people, and not enough for yourself. He gave and gave and gave. It was him, how he was. He couldn't change that. But the toll it had taken on him – his body, his mind, his soul – he felt it now more than ever.

He had finally been able to be honest with himself a few weeks ago that he had a problem with stims. The epiphany had not come through any sort of enlightenment or personal improvement. It had been quite the opposite, actually. He had crawled so far into the hole he had dug for himself that he couldn't see the sun anymore, and he had realized that he couldn't get out. He was trapped and panicky. And the worst part was, he still didn't know what to do.

Garibaldi knew about it, of course. He'd figured it out a long time ago. They were friends, and Garibaldi was a very perceptive man – it was not only in his personality, but also in his job description. He'd tried to get Franklin to get help, but Franklin hadn't been ready to admit the problem to himself yet. And then had come the rebirth ceremony, and Franklin had finally given in and surrendered himself to the fact that he was in deep trouble. He hadn't told Delenn what his problem was, just that he had one. He had seen in her eyes as she lay in the bed there in Medlab that she wanted to help. Her heart was so big, her capacity for love seemingly infinite. He could understand that – she might have made a good doctor, had she not been born into a destiny of religious service.

But as with all people prone to strong empathy, Delenn felt _everything_ more strongly than other people, not just love. She had done a better job of compartmentalizing it when she had been full Minbari, but her newfound human qualities seemed to have interfered with that ability. Franklin knew what it felt like, to be so overwhelmed with caring that you forgot how to function. It was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place. The more he worked, the more people he could help. But the more he worked, the more tired he had become, and everything had spiraled out of control.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Dwelling on his own problems didn't help his patients, and right now there was one patient in particular who needed him to have a major brainwave – sooner rather than later. Lennier's case had proven to be one of the most frustrating he'd had in a long time, and it was made all the worse by the emotional component, which was hitting him even harder than normal. Franklin genuinely liked Lennier. And Delenn was Franklin's friend, and one of the kindest people he'd ever met. Seeing her so heartbroken, sitting at her friend's bedside hour after hour after hour, tears falling when she thought no one was looking, really took its toll on Franklin. He thought he had seen her upset three months ago, when Lennier had been comatose following being caught in an explosion. But then, despite the fact that Franklin hadn't been able to tell when Lennier would wake, he had been stable – it had just been a matter of how much time his body decided it needed to take to heal. So after the first few hours, Franklin had been able to reassure Delenn with that at least. But now, much too soon after the last time, was a completely different story. Lennier was deteriorating, slipping further away from them with each passing hour, and Delenn knew it. She still held on to hope – it just wasn't in her to let go of it – and somehow that made it even harder for Franklin. Every time he would walk into the ICU room to tend his patient, she would look up at him, and the hope in her gray eyes would be almost enough to paralyze him. Because every single time he would have to tell her no, he hadn't found anything that might help. And then she would nod and look away, trying to act as though she hadn't thought it might be possible, so he wouldn't see how upset she was. It hadn't taken him too long in the medical field to learn what a dangerous thing hope could be. And it was absolutely breaking Delenn. But at the same time, it was holding her together as well, and by extension Lennier, if he did indeed know that she was there with him. So Franklin continued to let her break his own heart.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the entrance of one of his nurses into his office. The young man held a data pad out to him.

"Lennier's blood culture results are in," he said.

"Let's see them!" Franklin grabbed the pad with newfound alacrity, only remembering to mumble a "thank you" as he was already scanning the data. He had run a large bacterial panel. It included common contaminants, of course – the organisms someone was most likely to come into contact with in the general environment. In a patient who was immunocompromised or already very ill, these bacteria could easily invade the bloodstream and cause sepsis. But Lennier had been healthy up until he had collapsed in the hallway, and because of that he should have formed antibodies against these common bacteria and been able to fight them had they entered his system somehow – a little bit of local inflammation, but nothing more. No, Franklin much more strongly suspected a rarer organism, something Lennier's system wouldn't have seen before – he had also included many of these on the panel. In that case, in a few days he should hopefully have built up enough antibodies to start to clear the infection. Franklin just hoped his body could hold out that long.

But as he scanned the data pad, Franklin felt a terrible mixture of surprise, confusion, and worry wash over him like a wave. All of the bacteria species had the word "negative" written beside them, except for one. _Pseudocyanin ubique_ had the word "positive". This designation had triggered a reflex titer – a test to determine just how high the blood levels of the bacteria were. Even yesterday, when the blood had been drawn, they had been soaring. So _Pseudocyanin ubique_ was definitely the culprit. But as its Latin name suggested, it was ubiquitous, one of the most common bacteria in the universe. It was believed, coincidentally enough, that it had first evolved on Minbar, but was so hardy and capable of adaptation that it had quickly spread to other worlds. It was now everywhere in the galaxy where anyone had traveled at any point. But this was fine, because it was a perfectly innocuous bacteria – it simply existed, without bothering anyone. Unless for some reason it got into the bloodstream and the body couldn't fight it.

The area just behind Franklin's right temple was beginning to pound, and he pressed into it with his fingers. It just didn't make any sense. Why was Lennier's system acting like it had never seen this usually harmless bacteria before? He glanced again at the last blood panel, taken about two hours prior. The neutrophil count was off the charts – to be expected with severe bacterial infection. Lennier was fighting hard, which explained the high fever. But clearly, it wasn't enough. And what was worse, Franklin still had no idea where the infection had come from. There were no signs of any internal organ having been specifically involved, and he hadn't seen any large wounds that would have been possible points of entry through the skin. Franklin tossed both data pads on the desk and buried his head in his hands. Garibaldi might like a good mystery, but he didn't. Especially not when people's lives depended on him solving it.

He startled a bit as his incoming call notification beeped. It wasn't coming from the BabCom – the call was from off-station, but he hadn't been expecting any calls. His eyebrows knit together in curiosity.

"Receive."

A familiar goateed face popped up on the screen, the British-accented voice that accompanied it sounding very worried.

"Stephen, thank the stars. I've been in a communications blackout for security reasons, but I was supposed to check in with Delenn on a secure channel today. But she didn't answer when I called at the prearranged time, so I called Mr. Garibaldi to make sure she was okay, and he said she was probably in Medlab." Marcus finally took a breath, his first since he'd started talking. Even through the screen, his brown eyes shown with concern.

"Is it true, what Mr. Garibaldi said about Lennier? He didn't seem entirely well when I left, but I thought he'd be fine with some rest. I _never_ thought…" He trailed off and swallowed hard. "Stephen, is he going to die?"

 _Damn_. There was that same look he kept getting from Delenn, and the same one he'd gotten from Vir. He should be used to it by now, but these were his friends. There _was_ no getting used to this.

"I don't know, Marcus. It's not an infection we often see in otherwise healthy patients, and I have no idea how it could have gotten into his bloodstream."

Marcus furrowed his brow. "You mean like through the cut on his finger?"

"What?!" Franklin cursed himself inwardly – how could he have been so stupid not to look on the hands? Was his brain really so addled on adrenaline and stims and frustration that he had forgotten how to do a basic physical exam? Granted, things like that were easy to miss, and he had been expecting a much larger point of entry, but he should have known better.

Marcus counted backward on his fingers. "I think it was five days ago now. We were in Down Below at a bar – covert meeting. Everything down there is sort of just patched together from whatever people can find, you know? The chairs were dodgy at best, and I think he caught his hand on a loose nail or something. It was the left one, I believe."

"Did it bleed?"

"Not a lot, but yes. He didn't make anything of it – you know Lennier. He just wrapped a napkin around it and hid if from Delenn and went on with whatever work needed to be done next. It was such a small cut – had I had any inkling that it would cause so great a problem as this I would have insisted he come see you immediately. I'm sorry, Stephen." Marcus bit his lip.

"It's not your fault, Marcus. And I doubt he would have listened anyway. It's not something most people would seek medical care for. Things aren't always exactly sanitary in Down Below, but even so, a small cut shouldn't have caused this big of a reaction. Something weird is going on, and I've got to figure out what it is. But having a likely entry point for the infection, while raising more questions than it answers, is still useful information. I'm going to go check it out now – did you want to talk to Delenn?"

"Yes please." Marcus nodded eagerly. "I know she needs to be at Lennier's side right now, but I'm afraid the updates are quite important."

"I'm sure they'll both understand," said Franklin. "Let me put you on hold."

"Thanks," said Marcus before Franklin pushed the 'hold' button and he vanished.

Franklin got up and went to the ICU, which was, logically, the closest part of the whole Medlab to his office. He steeled himself for Delenn's hopeful look as he walked through the door, but it hurt even more this time, because the situation had gotten all the more confusing. Despite the new information, Franklin had never felt further from the answer. As expected, when Delenn saw nothing in his expression indicating he had further hope to provide, she turned away, face falling.

"Doctor," she murmured in greeting, though she did not meet his eyes – her gaze was back on Lennier. "He has not woken," she said, by way of update, "and I fear his fever might be rising again."

Franklin glanced at the vitals monitor. Lennier's temperature was three-tenths of a degree higher than it had been last time he had checked. It wasn't a huge difference, but every fraction of a degree counted with a fever this high.

"I'll boost his antipyretics and see if it helps," he said. He wasn't optimistic – so far, the fever had been refractory to all forms of treatment. Neither the meds nor the cooling pads would touch it. Franklin didn't understand why Lennier's body was reacting so strongly to the presence of the infection and yet not really _doing_ anything about it.

He emptied a syringe of acetaminophen into the port of the fluids drip, and then walked around to the other side of the bed and began to examine Lennier's left hand, looking on all the surfaces of the fingers, including between them. Delenn watched him from Lennier's other side, looking confused.

"What are you doing, Doctor?"

Franklin didn't answer right away, because he had found what he was looking for. A small cut, just as Marcus had said, on the index finger where it faced the middle finger. It was small, but swollen and full of pus, and ominous red lines radiated from it and moved up the arm. _Vasculitis._ This was the source of the infection, all right.

"Damn," he whispered. He'd half hoped it wasn't true. A common bacteria and a tiny port of entry – something wasn't right. This was turning into one hell of a witch hunt.

Delenn regarded him with continually growing concern. He sighed.

"I've found where the infection entered." He held up Lennier's hand and showed her the cut. "Those red lines are where the bacteria traveled through his veins and into the rest of his body. I also have the blood cultures back, and the bacteria that's causing the infection is an extremely common one that we're all likely exposed to every time we have open skin. But most people don't go septic every time they cut themselves – I don't understand why his body wasn't able to overcome the local infection before it got the chance to spread into his bloodstream."

"He was terribly exhausted in the days leading up to the onset of his illness," said Delenn softly, guilt written across her features. "I have heard that the body's defenses are not as strong in times of stress and exhaustion – is that true?"

"That is true, but I don't think simple exhaustion would have compromised him enough to give way to this." Franklin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Delenn. This is even more complicated than I originally thought. But I'm not going to stop researching until I figure it out – I promise."

"I know you are giving all of yourself, Doctor," said Delenn, the gratitude in her low, sweet voice _almost_ cutting through his fog of frustration and the growing threatening quality to the entire situation. "I want you to know that I am incredibly grateful."

He smiled. "It's my job." He reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "And Delenn…it isn't your fault Lennier is sick. Something else is definitely going on inside his body, and this would have happened even if he'd been in his quarters relaxing for the past week. You know that, don't you?"

She smiled at him, but it did not meet her eyes. "I know, Doctor. I have been reassured of that by you and John and Vir. This illness might not be my fault, but I still cannot help but feel I should have done better by Lennier. After our conversation last night, I believe he understands that I hold loyalty to him just as he does to me. But with each passing hour I grow more and more afraid that I will never get the opportunity to demonstrate through my actions how much he means to me."

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Well, I might not be the friendship guru, but I'd say that you sitting as his side for three days now is a pretty strong demonstration. And I'm also not a psychic, but I think Lennier would agree." He squeezed her arm. "Just don't give up on him."

"Never," said Delenn staunchly, her gaze lowering back down to Lennier. "Not until his last breath has left his body." She passed her hand over the pale cheek in a gesture of affection.

Franklin was loath to break the moment, but he suddenly remembered the communication on hold in his office.

"Delenn, I know you want to stay with Lennier, but I have Marcus on hold for you in my office with updates from the Rangers."

"Of course," whispered Delenn, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'd completely forgotten." She looked conflicted.

"I'll stay with Lennier. I need to drain and clean the cut on his finger anyway. I promise I'll let you know if anything changes," Franklin reassured her.

"All right." Delenn cast one more tender glance down at Lennier and squeezed his hand before rising and going into Franklin's office. Franklin watched her go for a moment before setting about gathering the supplies he needed to tend Lennier's cut. As he worked, he tried to sort through all of the facts of the case in his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more worrying – and strange - the whole thing became. But one thing was certain – he wasn't going to rest until he'd solved this.


	7. If That Hope Should Fail

Marcus had a single night in the barracks at the Rangers' base on Minbar before he needed to leave for his assignment. The fact-finding missions he was being sent on by Ranger One were becoming more covert and dangerous by the month, and the facts he was finding were getting increasingly disturbing. But by far the most disturbing fact he had found today had nothing to do with his mission.

 _Damn. Damn, damn, DAMN_. He should have stayed on Babylon 5. _Something_ had been wrong, he'd just felt it, and he should know by now not to ignore his gut feelings. Too many people he cared about had suffered or died because he hadn't _listened_. Lennier had collapsed in his arms – what louder cry for help was there? There was a part of him – the tiny, microscopic part that lived in the back of his brain and actually exercised logic – that said there was nothing he could have done to help Lennier. He wasn't a doctor or a scientist – if Stephen couldn't figure out why his friend was so sick or how to make him better, there nothing Marcus could ever have contributed. But he still felt he needed to _be_ there, to sit at Lennier's side and remind him that he did, in fact, care about him. They'd had some bumpy times together recently, but they'd come out all right. It was just that sometimes, it seemed to Marcus that Lennier got so caught up in protecting and serving Delenn that he neglected to take care of himself, and that included allowing the people who cared for him into his mind and heart. Lennier was an extremely private person – Marcus knew and respected that. But he still felt it would behoove the young Minbari to open up once and awhile. Marcus would listen. So would Delenn, he knew – she was probably the best listener he had ever met. Lennier had friends – he just needed to give them a chance to express their friendship. But now Marcus worried he might never again get the opportunity. At least they had been able to part on good terms. He tried to reassure himself with that fact, although the attempt was entirely unsuccessful.

It had been several days after the hostage crisis. Marcus had stayed out of the way as best he could – he was good at doing that, and he had felt that just then, it had needed doing. He'd heard that Delenn was expected to make a full recovery, and that was all the news he needed for the time being, although he was admittedly anxious to hear how she was progressing. He had just sat down with a large pot of strong Afternoon Tea in the corner of a shop in the Zocalo. It was a bit of an aberration for him – he was more of a watching-people-from-a-seedy-dive-bar-in-Brown-Sector sort of chap. But the allure of the hot drink, a favorite of his ancestors, had been too tempting. He had just finished pouring his first steaming cup when he'd happened to look up and see Lennier walking by. Luckily, the open nature of the Zocalo shops and restaurants made it easy to flag people down, and Lennier had seen him without too much jumping around like a monkey on Marcus's part. As the Minbari headed over, Marcus had grabbed an extra teacup from the counter; as his friend sat down, he had filled it and pushed it toward him without even offering. Poor Lennier had looked like he needed the fortification even more than Marcus did – there were dark bags beneath his tired eyes, and he had the look and air of someone who bore the weight of the entire universe on their shoulders. And Lennier did, in a way, thought Marcus – Delenn was, after all, the entire universe to him.

"How is she?" Marcus wasn't one for dancing around the point, so he had asked the most important question before Lennier had even finished sinking into the chair across from him.

"Better. She is resting much more comfortably now," Lennier had replied, staring into the teacup as though he hadn't quite comprehended yet that he could actually drink its contents rather than just look at them. "Doctor Franklin says she should be able to return to her quarters in the next couple of days. She will rest more easily there, I think."

"Good." Marcus had sighed in relief. "That's good to hear."

Lennier hadn't responded – he'd just continued to stare at the reddish-brown liquid in his cup.

"Have some tea, mate," Marcus had prodded gently. "You look like you could do with some. When did you last sleep?"

"I've stopped counting," Lennier had murmured, but he had finally picked up the cup and lifted it to his lips. He had cradled the cup and inhaled deeply after drinking, as though allowing the warmth to seep into every crevice of his exhausted body.

"Then you should go back to your quarters, get some kip," Marcus had urged.

"I will, when it is time." Lennier had tried to look annoyed, but failed miserably in his weariness and looked rather pathetic instead. And perhaps a little guilty. Marcus raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. They had both drank of their tea in silence for a few minutes, until finally Lennier spoke again.

"Delenn and I were hoping we would see you at the _Nafak'cha_." His tone had not been accusatory, though perhaps a bit disappointed. Marcus had felt a rush of guilt.

"You would think that, after everything that happened and all of my remorse about it, I would have at least had the guts and the decency to show up, wouldn't you?" The question had come out harsher than he had intended, and Lennier had looked a tad taken aback.

"That wasn't what I meant," he'd said, gaze immediately dropping upon so much as a hint that he might have offended his friend. Marcus knew that this action was trained into all Religious Caste Minbari to the point of being almost instinctive. It was one of the very few things he disliked about the Religious Caste, who were in all a friendly and kind people. Marcus was the type of person who looked people in the eye when he talked to them, and he expected the same treatment. But cultural differences aside, Lennier had brought up a good point, whether he'd meant to or not.

"But you would have been right," Marcus had sighed. Lennier had looked up then, curiosity and concern getting the better of his training.

"Did she tell you what she told me?" Marcus had murmured, stirring his tea, which had by that time gone mostly cold. "Just before…just before they…"

"Not exactly," Lennier had broken him off. Neither of them had wanted to think about _that_. "Only that you hold much guilt for things that do not warrant it."

"Well, as the holder of the guilt, I am tempted to disagree with her there." Lennier's gaze had sharpened briefly upon hearing those words, as though he questioned how Marcus could _dare_ to disagree with Delenn's infinite wisdom, but his eyes had softened when he heard how miserable Marcus sounded.

"I told her that I couldn't go to the rebirth ceremony because it requires giving up something very dear, and I had nothing left to give. I've lost everyone and everything I once loved, and the worst part is that it's all my fault. William and all the others…they're all gone because I didn't listen, because I wasn't there when I should have been. And then she told me…" He'd broken off for a moment, his voice lowering in volume as he remembered the conversation. How gentle and earnest Delenn had been, how much she clearly cared. If only, if _only_ it was as easy as she'd made it seem.

"…she told me that what I needed to give up was my guilt at being alive when they were all dead. And do you know what? I _almost_ did. I left because I wanted to be alone to think about what she'd said. And I had decided that I would, because her words were so powerful that she convinced me to leave it all behind. But when I came back, she was gone. They'd taken her, and it was all my fault." In a fit of self-loathing, he'd pounded his fist down onto the table, causing their cups to clink onto their saucers and little flecks of tea to splatter out onto the wooden surface. "Damn it, I should have _been_ there, Lennier!"

"We _both_ should have been there." Lennier's voice had held all of its characteristic calmness, but his eyes had told a different story. It was then Marcus realized that he, too, felt guilt beyond measure for what had happened…and for what had _nearly_ happened.

"But she sent you away. You had no reason to be there," he'd insisted.

"Delenn was there. That was reason enough." Marcus had seen then that Lennier was clutching the handle of his cup so hard he worried it would shatter. The Minbari's knuckles had gone white.

"I swore myself to her side, and I wasn't there, and she almost died. I failed her, and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that." Lennier's hand had begun to tremble with the exertion of the force he was putting on the little cup. He had finally seemed to notice what he was doing then, and he had gently placed it back in its saucer. But the pain in his eyes did not abate as his gaze met Marcus's. But Marcus was well aware that the fact that he could _see_ Lennier's eyes meant he was being spoken to as an equal.

"So you see, you are not as alone as you thought." Marcus had thought he heard that smooth, soft-spoken voice catch just the tiniest bit. But it had vanished as soon as it had come, and Lennier's tone had been even and composed again.

"But we cannot undo the past. We must look ever forward, and learn from our mistakes. I, for one, do not _ever_ intend to waver from my place at Delenn's side again. I will protect her with all that I am and all that I have."

"She's lucky to have you. I hope she knows that," Marcus had said with the tiniest of smiles.

"It doesn't matter if she knows or not. It would not change my devotion to her. She deserves more than I have to give, but I give what I can." He'd looked at Marcus meaningfully, and Marcus had met his gaze with sadness.

"I just need some more time. I thought I could do it, but after what happened… It isn't something you heal easily from, Lennier. I'm sorry."

Lennier had nodded. "Of course. She will understand, as do I. And Marcus, I…I wanted to apologize for my manner and actions in the bar in Down Below a few days ago." He'd lowered his gaze again, this time doubtlessly out of shame for what he had done. "I have learned recently that I do not handle crises well when they involve Delenn's safety. It is a failing of mine, and one that I need to address if I am to better protect her. I was upset and scared and full of guilt, and I lashed out at you when you did not deserve it. You were trying to help find her. I had completely shut down in my unwillingness to accept the fact she might be dead."

There it was again, that little catch to his voice. Marcus couldn't blame him, especially given what Lennier had confessed directly following the event he was currently apologizing for.

"All's forgiven, mate," Marcus had said, and even though Lennier's eyes had still been downcast, he had looked grateful. They had lapsed into companionable silence after that, with Marcus trying to keep his thoughts from wandering into dark places and Lennier going back to cradling his teacup, despite the fact that he had drained it long ago. It was almost as though he were trying to extract any possible remaining warmth from it. Marcus had been about to offer him what little tea remained in the bottom of the pot in an attempt to combat both his exhaustion and unsettled emotions when Lennier had suddenly stopped staring off into the distance and placed the cup back on the table.

"I should go," he'd said. "There is much to be done."

Marcus had raised an eyebrow, suddenly remembering Lennier's guilty expression when he had asked him about sleeping, since it was very clear now that it was not on his immediate agenda.

"Lennier…did Delenn send you to get some sleep just now?"

Lennier had opened his mouth, then closed it again, and then sighed in defeat. "Yes."

"And I take it you were not intending to?"

Lennier had looked vaguely annoyed, but mostly contrite. "I wanted to fetch Delenn's favorite shawl from her quarters. She likes to wrap up in it when she's upset, and I thought it might make her feel better."

"And then?"

"And then I would make sure she was as comfortable as she can be."

"And _then_?"

"And _then_ I _might_ think about sleeping."

Marcus had shook his head and sighed. "Lennier, you are a wonderful aide, but you are _terrible_ at looking after yourself."

"I think the two are mutually exclusive," Lennier had muttered, but Marcus was having none of it. He'd reached out and laid a firm hand on Lennier's arm. He'd known he was sort of taking his life in his hands, given what had happened the last time he'd made physical contact with Lennier. And though Lennier had not hoisted him up by his collar this time, he had stiffened and his gaze had hardened. But Marcus, ever stubborn, said his piece anyway.

"Look, just promise me you'll get _some_ sleep soon. Doesn't have to be a lot. Just enough that you don't give Doctor Franklin another patient to worry about while he's trying to take care of Delenn."

The fire had gone out of Lennier's expression when he saw that Marcus was genuinely concerned about him, and he'd nodded.

"All right."

"Good. Now off you go. I'm sure Delenn will be very grateful to have her shawl."

Lennier had bowed a little and gotten to his feet, a bit more slowly than he normally would have as he accounted for the factor of his weariness.

"Thank you for the tea, and for the conversation. I'll tell Delenn you inquired after her."

"Give her my best wishes," Marcus had replied. Lennier had turned to leave when Marcus had suddenly remembered something he'd been curious about.

"Lennier?"

Lennier had turned back around. "Yes?"

"At the _Nafak'cha_ …what did you give up?"

The smallest of smiles had graced Lennier's lips, and a light that had been absent for their entire conversation up until that point had kindled in his eyes.

"My heart," he had said simply. And then he had been gone, swallowed up by the bustling crowd of the Zocalo. Marcus had shaken his head and leaned back in his chair, hoping his friend knew what he was getting into. Although he'd supposed it didn't matter one way or the other – Lennier was far too devoted to Delenn to ever look back.

Now, less than three weeks later, Marcus lay on the angled bed in his tiny room from when he'd been a trainee and stared off into the darkness, remembering the conversation he'd had with Delenn just a few hours earlier. Even over the screen, he had been able to see the terrible pain she was in. She had looked much like Lennier had that day in the Zocalo, but worse. For Lennier, worried and exhausted though he had been, had been assured that the object of his devotion would survive. Delenn had no such reassurances, the sleepless days and nights of worry had taken their toll on her. Her swollen eyes alone had torn at Marcus's heart – for the unbreakably strong Delenn to cry _that_ much, the situation must be truly dire. And none of the Delenn he knew had been there as he had spoken to her. The light and passion were gone – she had been listless, saying only a few words at a time, her expression distant. And she had kept glancing over her shoulder – presumably toward the room where Lennier was. And Marcus could not help but hope that Lennier had realized how much Delenn truly cared for him before it was too late.

 _Please don't let it be too late._

It wasn't just that Lennier was a truly good person and far, _far_ too young to die; it was that Marcus would _miss_ him. He'd miss their sparring sessions together in Babylon 5's gym; the way Lennier could talk in circles so thoroughly he could confuse the pants off of even the sagest being but still be incredibly endearing while doing so; the way his eyes shown with love and devotion whenever he looked at Delenn – Marcus didn't think he'd ever seen a love so pure, and it warmed his heart. To lose all of that, to lose _Lennier_ …Marcus did not even try to stop the tears that rolled hot down his face and onto his flat, triangular pillow.

Here he was again. Poised on the edge of losing someone he loved, and he wasn't there. Another person he would unfairly outlive. Another hole in his heart.

Marcus shivered and pulled his blanket tighter around himself – he always felt cold when he was on Minbar. The Minbari had evolved in cooler climate than most of the other races, and it turned out crystal held the chill well. He tried to think of something, _anything_ other than his worry and misery – he desperately needed sleep for the morrow's endeavors. But of course, it would not come. His thoughts kept drifting back to Lennier and to his own shortcomings.

Finally, Marcus rose, still wrapped in his blanket, and went to sit at the prayer area in the corner of the little room. Marcus was not a religious man – he had lost far too many people in his life to believe that there might be a higher power looking out for his better interests. But, with the Rangers' headquarters being located on Minbar and run by Minbari, each room in the barracks had its own prayer area.

Marcus knew that pretty much Lennier's entire life was based around religion. He had known many Religious Caste Minbari in his time, and all of them had been focused on ritual and prayer by requirement of a lifetime of training in temple. But despite the fact that Lennier had been plucked out of his little world of study and rituals and placed into a very dangerous and frightening one of wars and politics and nothing he could possibly have been prepared for, he managed to stay impressively centered and calm throughout nearly all of it by relying on the religious practices he was so accustomed to. Marcus knew that the calming effect prayer, ritual, and meditation had on his friend was in part due to the fact that he valued structure and routine – yet another trait imprinted upon him by having spent his formative years in the temple. But beyond that, it was clear how much Lennier's religion meant to him – the meditation, the constant search for enlightenment, the prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. Because Lennier did believe in a higher power – it motivated him and comforted him, made him strive to be an even better person than he already was. And Marcus wondered that if Lennier's god did in fact exist, if it would listen to him, to Marcus. Not for his own sake, but for Lennier's. Lennier, who truly believed with all of his soul. Lennier, who so desperately needed a miracle.

And so, even though he had no idea what he was doing, Marcus prayed on the cold floor until the sun's rays just began to glance off of the crystalline buildings around him, lighting the world in a brilliant prism of colors. All his prayers, he said for his dear friend Lennier. He kept none for himself.

What had been a difficult day stuttered haltingly into a terrible night. Rather than lying still and calm in an almost coma-like state as he had been for much of the previous three days, Lennier tossed and turned as much as he could in his profound weakness, and he trembled so hard that Delenn feared he would shake away every last ounce of strength he had. He seemed to be awake, but he was deep within the throes of intense delirium. Even when she spoke his name, he would stare right past her as though she were invisible. And he would whimper and cry out as though in pain, and he would not settle no matter what Delenn did. But the worst was when he would call Delenn's name, his voice so small and plaintive and hurting. Delenn would take his hand and reassure him that she was right there with him. But Lennier would only keep calling her name until he was sobbing it. Even when she took him into her arms, he did not seem to know what was happening. She could feel the intense heat radiating from him even through his hospital gown as she held him close, and when he whimpered her name yet again, her heart broke more thoroughly than she had ever thought possible.

Lennier's fever was so high that Delenn dared not keep him off of the cooling pads for more than a few minutes at a time. So when it became obvious that even her touch, which had seemed to be the only thing that had previously brought him comfort, had no effect on him, she laid his trembling body back on the bed. Lennier whimpered softly when he touched the cooling pad, and Delenn tried and failed to blink back tears as she stroked his cheek.

"Peace, my sweet Lennier," she murmured as he drew a shaky, sobbing breath that seemed to catch in his throat. His fever-bright eyes stared forward, straight through Delenn, until he closed them with a soft cry, his face drawn into a wince. Delenn felt sick with the realization that there was nothing she could do to comfort him.

Sitting at Lennier's bedside caused memories of her early childhood to prick unexpectedly at the edge of her thoughts. When she had been unable to sleep, be it from fear brought on by nightmares or the common desire of every child to be allowed just a _few_ more minutes before being sent to bed, her father would sing to her. The song was always the same, a lullaby in Adronato that all Religious Caste Minbari sang to their children, simple but lovely. Its sweet melody, sung in her father's gentle voice, had never failed to soothe her; as the tune and words came back to her now, she remembered how calm she had always felt upon hearing it. Lennier would doubtlessly know it, too, from his own childhood. She did not even know if he could hear her, but she had tried everything to comfort him, and she was desperate. It seemed such a contradiction, to pull something from her happy memories into such a dark time, to sing the childhood lullaby through the tears that ran down her cheeks. But all the same, she took Lennier's hand into hers, and, running her thumb over his knuckles as she had so much the past few days, began to sing in Adronato, her voice trembling but not breaking.

" _The sun has set behind the crystal towers,_

 _And the moonlight plays on the river._

 _Darkness has fallen over the land,_

 _But fear not, my dear, for I am with you."_

She paused when Lennier softly cried out again. Wiping away her tears, she reached out and laid her hand on his brow.

"Do not be afraid, Lennier, everything will be all right. You are safe, my dear friend. Rest now. Just rest."

None of her reassurances felt even the tiniest bit true, and her voice shook as she spoke. But miraculously, Lennier seemed to settle just the smallest bit beneath her hand. Delenn persevered with the lullaby.

" _Even if the cliffs were to crumble,_

 _And the trees of the forests topple,_

 _Know that you are safe in my arms,_

 _And sleep now, my dear, for I am with you."_

The familiar song must have touched something somewhere deep within Lennier, or perhaps he finally recognized the sound of Delenn's voice or the feel of her touch on his face and hand. Either way, he finally fell asleep. His whimpers and cries ceased, and his violent shaking diminished to a tremble. Delenn should have felt relieved – her friend so desperately needed to rest. But seeing Lennier like that had shaken her to her core. He was getting worse, and he was _suffering_. None of this should be happening, and she did not know what to do.

Not even bothering to wipe away her tears this time, Delenn pressed her lips tenderly to Lennier's forehead. Then she folded her arms on the bed, laid her head in them, and wept.

Sheridan stood in the doorway of the ICU room for a moment, just watching Delenn sit at Lennier's side. He admired her – the devotion and love of which she was capable knew no bounds that he could perceive. For four days she had not left her friend's bedside for more than a few minutes. Sheridan was worried – for Lennier, of course, but also for Delenn. She hadn't really slept in all that time – napped while slumped on the hospital bed, yes, but there was no way one could truly sleep in a Medlab chair. However, Sheridan suspected she would not have been able to sleep in her quarters, either – she was far too upset and worried for that. He looked in on them a couple of times a day – he wished he could come more, but his duties prevented him from doing so - bringing Delenn some food and tea when he could. She always smiled gratefully at him, but as far as he could tell it was only in appreciation of the gesture – she ate very little. She would let him hold her, and she was thankful for his comfort, he could tell, but her attention was always focused on Lennier. If she was in _this_ much pain with him sick, Sheridan didn't want to think about what would happen to her if he didn't pull through. But every time Sheridan came, it seemed more and more likely that he would find out.

He stood there for several minutes, but Delenn was so focused on Lennier that she did not notice him. She was silent now, although Sheridan had heard her talking to Lennier, reassuring him or praying, on several occasions. She ran her thumb back and forth over her friend's pale knuckles. Her whole silhouette was tight, as though every muscle in her body was full of built-up tension.

"Delenn," Sheridan said finally, speaking in a whisper so as not to startle her. She looked over her shoulder, Lennier's hand still in hers.

"John," she whispered back. Her smile said that she was glad to see him, glad of his comfort and company. But it was also exhausted and grieved and so, so worried.

He pulled a rolling chair up beside her and kissed her dark hair, arching his neck a little to reach over the bone that encircled her head. She laid her head briefly on his shoulder before straightening and continuing her gentle ministrations toward Lennier.

"How's he doing?" asked Sheridan quietly. He glanced at the vitals monitor, and he was surprised to see that the temperature readout was a solid two degrees lower than when he had been by that morning. "It looks like his fever's going down. That's good news, right?"

His heart sank when Delenn shook her head. "Doctor Franklin says that the fever is lowering because he no longer has the strength to keep it up. His body is so weak that it cannot keep fighting for much longer." Her voice cracked, and Sheridan wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him, the movement almost instinctive.

"I will not give up on him," she whispered tremulously, "but I'm scared, John. I don't want to lose my friend."

"I know," he murmured, squeezing her arm where his own was positioned around her, wishing as he had so often these past few days that there was something he could say or do to make it all better. But there wasn't, of course. He couldn't restore her dear friend to her. All he could do was be there for her. So he let her lean against him as he rubbed slow circles into her back. They sat in silence for a long time – long enough that they both nodded off, with Delenn holding Lennier's hand and resting her body against Sheridan's.

Sheridan wasn't sure how much time had passed when a noise awakened him. He blinked and looked around, tempering his movement when he realized that Delenn was still asleep against him. His gaze fell upon Franklin, who was changing Lennier's fluids bag.

"Hey," mumbled Sheridan, blinking a few times and running the hand not next to Delenn over his eyes.

"Hey. Sorry, I tried not to wake you," said Franklin quietly. He looked even more exhausted than Delenn – the shadowy indentations beneath his reddened eyes spoke to the last time he had slept properly. Sheridan doubted it had been anywhere near recently.

"Captain," Franklin said softly when he had finished. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah." Sheridan carefully repositioned Delenn so she was resting against the bed. She stirred, sighing softly, and settled so she was at least a little more comfortable. Sheridan kissed her hair lightly, and then followed Franklin into the hallway. When the doctor stopped walking and turned to face him, he looked grave.

"I don't think I like that expression," muttered Sheridan.

"I just wanted to fill you in on the situation because I think you being there will be of some comfort to Delenn." Franklin sighed and shook his head. "John, Lennier isn't responding to treatment. At all. The antibiotics should have started to put a dent in the infection by now, but I haven't seen a shred of evidence that that's happening. I just…I think that soon, you might need to be there for Delenn even more than you have been. A _lot_ more." He paused to let the meaning of the statement sink in, but Sheridan shook his head emphatically. He knew exactly what the doctor meant, but he refused to accept it.

"No. Like you said, Lennier's a fighter."

"Oh, he is," Franklin affirmed. "He's a Minbari. Also, dying would mean he'd be separated from Delenn, which is the last thing he wants. He'll fight to stay alive until the bitterest of ends, but his body isn't fighting this infection in the least. And unless it starts, eventually the infection is going to win."

Sheridan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to think of what to say. He glanced through the window into the ICU room, where Delenn was slowly beginning to wake. She would be _so_ heartbroken…

"Does she know?" he managed to ask finally.

"More or less," said Franklin quietly. "She knows his chances aren't good, and that he isn't fighting this like he should be. But she still hopes – she wouldn't be Delenn if she didn't. And there _is_ a chance, but…I just thought I would prepare you so you can comfort her as best you can if that hope should fail."

Sheridan ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I appreciate the warning. Thank you."

"Captain, I'm still doing everything I can…"

"I know," Sheridan reassured him quickly. "You look exhausted. I can't imagine what you've been through trying to find an answer to this."

The doctor shot him a half-smile, tired but grateful. "It's been – and continues to be – an ordeal. But I should get back to it. Thanks for talking with me, Captain."

"Yeah," Sheridan replied, still trying to process and accept what Franklin had told him. The doctor had just turned away when suddenly Delenn's panicked voice came from inside the hospital room.

"Doctor!"

Franklin turned on a dime and rushed back in, his toned ability to respond to emergencies kicking in. Sheridan followed him. As he peered from behind his friend, at first he was a little confused – nothing seemed to have changed to trigger Delenn's sudden alarm. But then he saw her hand trembling where she suspended it just above Lennier's face. And as he looked at it, Sheridan saw the problem.

Delenn turned toward Franklin, her eyes wide with fear. "Doctor, why does Lennier look like a Narn?"

She was right. Every part of Lennier's skin, or at least the part that wasn't hidden beneath the cooling pads, was covered in little dark red or purple spots. They were much smaller than a Narn's spots, but the effect was still immensely disconcerting. And worrying, especially given that the skin that provided the background for the spots was paler than ever.

Suddenly, the vitals monitor alarm went off as the number indicating Lennier's blood pressure went into what could only be described as free-fall. Its loud and anxious beeping permeated the little room and sent chills up Sheridan's spine. He saw Delenn's face go white as she looked back and forth from the doctor to Lennier, panic mounting on her face. Franklin looked at the monitor for less than a second – that was all the time it took to make his assessment.

"Damn it!" he swore before calling to the nurse who had come running at the sound of the alarm. "I need three units of whole Minbari blood, type R negative, stat!" The nurse turned and ran while Franklin grabbed a syringe labeled "dopamine" from the crash cart and emptied it into the IV catheter in Lennier's arm.

Sheridan, sensing that things were about to get a lot busier and more hectic in the little room, grabbed Delenn's hand and wrapped his arm around her body, pulling her gently but firmly to her feet. But when he tried to urge her toward the door, she planted firmly, her hand still grasping Lennier's, tears streaming down her face.

"Delenn, we need to give Franklin and the nurses room to work," he said, his voice low but urgent.

"Lennier!" She sobbed, turning back to her friend, her panic interfering with her sense of logic.

"Delenn, you have to come with me." Sheridan tugged at her arm. "Lennier's best chance is if we get out of the way and let Franklin do what he needs to do."

Understanding finally flickered across Delenn's face, and she turned back again for one last desperate look at Lennier before letting his hand drop and allowing Sheridan to usher her out of the room just as the nurse returned with dark red bags of blood in his arms. Once they reached the hallway, Sheridan was glad he was still holding onto Delenn, because he was able to catch her as she collapsed, too overcome with emotion to hold herself upright anymore. He lowered her to the floor where she lay against his chest, weeping uncontrollably, sobbing Lennier's name over and over again. Sheridan didn't reassure her – it seemed cruel when her world was in the process of shattering. He just held her and let her cry as they sat there on the floor of the ICU hallway. Her face was hidden against him, which he considered to be a good thing, because for the next two hours, everything was in chaos. Sheridan watched the nurses run back and forth across Medlab. He could also hear Franklin speaking from inside the room, but he couldn't tell what he was saying. Sometimes, he sounded like he was giving an order; other times, he sounded frantic and desperate. At least once, Sheridan heard him say "come on, Lennier, don't you _do_ this to me!" Delenn heard it too, and it made her tears flow all the faster. Sheridan held her close.

They sat there huddled on the cold, hard floor for what seemed to Sheridan like a year. His back ached, but he barely noticed it, so focused was he on Delenn. After awhile, her tears seemed to come in waves, strengthening and weakening periodically. And then they stopped entirely, and she sat staring in front of her, her gaze unfocused. She didn't move, and Sheridan did not try to engage her. But finally, _finally_ , two hours of sitting on the floor later, Sheridan saw Franklin emerge from the ICU room, looking more haggard than Sheridan had ever seen him. Sheridan squeezed Delenn's arm softly and she startled a little, but then leapt to her feet upon seeing the doctor. Sheridan got up a bit more slowly, supporting his lower back with his hand, willing his legs, which had fallen asleep long ago, to support his weight.

If Delenn felt the stiffness Sheridan did, she didn't show it. She ran to Franklin and stopped just in front of him. Sheridan looked into the doctor's eyes and saw a gravity there that made his stomach twist into painful knots. But Delenn didn't see it at first. She still hoped, despite everything that had happened, because that was who she was. But the moment she saw, the moment she _knew_ ,would haunt Sheridan's dreams for years after. The way she stopped, her whole body going rigid, and then seemed to crumple, even as she stood. But nothing struck Sheridan harder than the look in her eyes – this was what pure agony looked like.

"No." The whimper that escaped her lips tore his heart like few words ever had before. "No."

"Delenn," said Franklin quietly, the sadness and apology in his eyes saying far more than his lips did. Delenn started to tremble; Sheridan wrapped an arm around her to hold her steady. She did not react.

"I've stabilized his blood pressure for now," Franklin explained. "But the sepsis has caused a condition called DIC – disseminated intravascular coagulation. It's like all of the cells in his body responsible for clotting have gotten distracted by making tiny clots in his blood vessels, and as a result he's bleeding everywhere inside. The spots you saw where tiny bruises from that. He went into hypovolemic shock – he was bleeding to death. I'll keep giving him transfusions, but he's going to crash again. It could be in ten minutes, an hour, or tomorrow. But it's going to happen, and it's going to be soon. And I don't know if I can get him back again. I had a professor in med school who said what 'DIC' really stood for was 'Death Is Coming". And Delenn…" he swallowed hard, and Sheridan was impressed that he was still holding her gaze. "…it is. His only chance is to start responding to the antibiotics, and _very_ soon, but given how weak his body is now, I'd say that's pretty much impossible. I hate the 'being the realist' part of this job. But I have to be right now. I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left, Delenn. I'm so sorry." Franklin sounded defeated, a disturbing aberration for him.

It was amazing to Sheridan how someone could cry so hard and yet be so silent. He could see the tears sliding down the contours of Delenn's face and hear her shaking inhalations. But it was as though she was too exhausted to weep properly anymore. She was completely spent, but now she was faced with the hardest piece of news yet. Sheridan wondered how the universe could be so cruel to one so kind and gentle. And poor Lennier…he didn't deserve any of this, either. He was _so_ young. It wasn't fair. And the perhaps the part that frustrated Sheridan the most was that he couldn't do anything about it. There was no one to fight, no one to blame. He was a fixer – if life presented him with a problem, he fixed it. But there was no fixing this.

"Someone should contact his family on Minbar," Delenn whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I don't know how to find them, but our government will. And Vir needs to know." She drew a trembling breath and finally turned to face Sheridan. "John…I can't…" She broke off, unable to continue, but he took her hand, understanding her meaning.

"I'll take care of everything," he said. "Whatever you need, I'll see it gets done. You be with Lennier. That's the only thing you need to do right now."

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning into him, as though she did not have the strength for a proper embrace.

"What about Marcus?" Franklin asked. "He should know, too."

"He is on a covert operation for the Rangers - I have no way of contacting him. We can leave a message at the Rangers' base on Minbar, but I do not know when he will return there to receive it." Delenn stared at the floor. "Marcus already holds so much misplaced guilt over being alive when so many people he cares about have been lost – I fear losing Lennier will make it all the worse for him. But in the months Marcus has been here, the two of them have developed a rather strong friendship. Marcus must know."

Sheridan began to reassure her that he would send the message himself, but Franklin interrupted him.

"I'll contact Marcus. He's my friend, too, and it's better he hears it from someone he's close to."

Sheridan nodded his briefly nodded his thanks to Franklin. He was glad to have to send one less awful message, even though overpowering even his reluctance for the task was his need to help Delenn. He might not be solving anything, and these certainly were not tasks he relished, but at least he could do _something_ to lighten Delenn's burden, if only just a little. He saw Delenn glance longingly toward the room where Lennier lay.

"You go now," he told her gently.

She grabbed his hand for a second, squeezing it in gratitude, before turning wordlessly and walking back to Lennier's room with the same grace and poise Sheridan was used to seeing from her. Or at least, it was if he pretended not to notice the slight tremor in her hands. But once she reached Lennier's bedside, she began to lose control, her composure faltering. Watching from the window, Sheridan saw her stretch out her hand, which shook harder now, to lay it on her friend's cheek as she had so often over the past days. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat and became a sob instead. Soon she was bent double over the motionless form of her dying friend, her grief all-consuming.

 _If that hope should fail,_ Franklin had said. Delenn's resilient hope defined her, and in just a few short moments it had been shattered. Why, Sheridan wondered in frustrated anger and an almost overwhelming sadness, did the thing he perhaps loved most about her have to be so fragile?


	8. Lonely Water, Let Us Hold Each Other

Lennier knew where he was before he even opened his eyes. It had been well over two years since he had been here, but it was all so familiar, so well scribed into his mind and memory that his recognition was instantaneous. The perfect firmness of the bed beneath him, the soft breeze and the smell and sound of the River Tuzen flowing in from the open window...this was his bedroom in his childhood home, the temple where he had grown up.

Joy bubbled up within him at the thought of seeing his old friends again, so much so that he launched out of bed and sprinted down the hall, knocking on doors and calling out the names of the people with whom he had spent the vast majority of his life.

"Nethenn! Merann! Rannier!" When there was no response from any of them, he pounded harder. "It's me, Lennier! I'm back!"

But none of them came out to greet him. And suddenly the joy in his heart turned to sadness, and then that sadness began to morph into fear as he realized that something wasn't right. He ran down the corridor, looking for someone, _anyone,_ trying to take in his surroundings and think at the same time. Why was he back? He shouldn't _be_ back. He should be on Babylon 5, shouldn't he? How had he gotten here? And why couldn't he remember?

And suddenly, he stopped so short that his boots squeaked on the slick floor, the sound echoing too loudly off of the vast, empty walls. He did remember. Everything.

"No…" he whispered, feeling his legs begin to shake. "No. Oh, no…"

He stumbled over to the wall and leaned on it for support as his heart pounded in his ears. It _couldn't_ be. Could it? No other explanation for what he was experiencing made any sense. Had he for some reason been sent to Minbar to recover, surely he would have awoken before he was strong enough to run at full speed down the temple hallway. And surely there would be _someone_ around. And it was not a dream, either - it was all too real, every detail too pristine. Everything was exactly as remembered it. Dreams were never that accurate, especially not the fever dreams he had been having, where everything had been twisted and frightening. Those had seemed very real, but only because his delirious mind had not been capable of viewing them any other way.

No, it was the only thing that it _could_ be.

It was not exactly what he had thought death would be like – he had always been told that the souls of the loved ones who had passed beyond the veil before you would be there, waiting for you. Could he perhaps be in some kind of transition zone, made to look like a place where he felt comfortable in order to ease his passage into the afterlife? If so, it wasn't doing a very good job. He felt nothing of the peace he had been taught to expect upon leaving the life he knew. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. A terrible, overwhelming grief blossomed from his heart and spread throughout his body, and he sank to the floor under its weight.

 _Delenn._ He had left her. He had broken his promise to stay at her side, and he couldn't protect her anymore. And he would never see her again.

"No." It was more of a whimper this time. Like before, the noise reverberated throughout the dome-roofed hallway, off of the crystalline pillars and through the air around him, filling the whole temple with the sound of his grief. Lennier pulled his knees up to his chest and just sat there on the floor, trembling. He tried to think of mediations he had been taught in this very building for times of trouble, but they all remained beyond the grasp of his memory. He had never experienced that before – Lennier could _always_ meditate, no matter what was happening around him. But at that moment, all he could think about was Delenn.

He was unsure how much time had gone by – it could have been minutes, hours, or days – when the silence surrounding him was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. It took a moment for Lennier to look up, so overwhelmed was he with despair and regret. But finally, the footsteps ceased and he could see boots on the floor in front of him. And then, the newcomer spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, yet gentle.

"My young friend...look up at me."

And so, Lennier did. What had he to lose at this point? Slowly, shakily, he raised his eyes.

He did not recognize the Minbari before him. He was considerably older than Lennier, but not elderly like some of his teachers in the temple had been. He wore the plain garb of a member of the Religious Caste, but the upright way in which he carried himself gave him a subtle air of authority. This effect was enhanced by his height - he was the tallest Minbari Lennier had ever seen, standing at least a good six inches above the peak of his own headbone. Even more curious was his face - surrounding his mouth, which smiled warmly, was a small beard. Lennier had only met a handful of Minbari males who could grow hair on their faces - the genetic capability was not found within most of their family lines, and the majority of those who did possess it chose to shave regularly. Conformity was a common theme amongst their people.

Lennier stood, his engrained humility and need for structure taking over, and with trembling hands, made a triangle with his thumbs and bowed.

"I am..." he began to introduce himself, but the other Minbari interrupted him, his warm voice a complete contrast to Lennier's feelings of hopelessness.

"...Lennier, of the Third Fane of Chudomo. I know who you are, my young friend. And I have been waiting for you." He laid a large hand on Lennier's back. "Come with me."

What else was Lennier to do? His choices were to follow, or to stay and be consumed by his own misery and regret. He followed, nearly having to run to keep up with his companion's long-legged stride.

"I apologize for my impertinence, but although you seem to know who I am, I am afraid I do not know you." Lennier hoped that this would be enough prompting for the tall Minbari to identify himself, but the other seemed to have a penchant for being cryptic.

"I am…a friend of a friend," he said simply, and then quickened his stride so that Lennier really _did_ need to run to avoid losing him. Further conversation was impossible.

They wound through the temple's seemingly endless corridors until they found themselves out of doors. They moved through the garden, out of the gate, and down to the riverbank. Lennier's heart ached with nostalgia as he recalled some of the copious wonderful memories he had formed there. He and his friends had spent many a summer's day in this very place. The others would swim in the river while Lennier would lounge under one of the big, shady trees, reading or studying until finally his friends would convince him to join them. He had always resisted at first –it had always been his way to spend every possible moment in the pursuit of learning - but the cool water had always seemed so lovely and inviting that he would eventually give in. Other times, they would spar, practicing what they had learned in their self-defense training and keeping their skills sharp. Lennier had _always_ been eager to do that. They would fight until a winner emerged, the victor would bow to the defeated, and then once the ritual was completed they would laugh and jest and reminisce. Was this punishment of some sort, he wondered, that his sweet recollections of this place were now to be tainted with heartache?

Lennier's tall companion finally stopped a few feet away from the bank, and Lennier came to stand beside him. The clear water flowed like a liquid version of the crystal which made up their cities, just like it always had. If he shut his eyes, he could see his friends splashing around, laughing and calling his name, begging him to join them. As much as the nostalgia hurt, knowing he would never see any of his friends again, he tried to focus his thoughts on it, because it stopped him from thinking of _her_.

 _Oh, Delenn._

"It is a beautiful place, is it not?" the tall Minbari asked, looking around him as though taking in the scenery.

"It is," Lennier whispered, unable to stop his voice from breaking as he looked out over the water. His companion turned to face him.

"You are troubled, my young friend. Tell me, did the prophet Valen not teach us to cast aside the burdens of our hearts in the pursuit of peace within ourselves?"

Lennier felt as though he were a young novitiate again, being reprimanded by one of his teachers. He still had no idea who this tall, bearded Minbari was, but he could not help but feel as though he needed to defer to him. He bowed low and then replied, his gaze still cast downward.

"Yes. But I am afraid that the burden of my heart is so great that I haven't the strength to cast it aside."

"Then perhaps I may be of some assistance." Lennier felt rather than saw his companion lay a hand on his upper arm. "But it will be difficult for me to help you if you will not at least look up at me." Lennier slowly raised his gaze as the tall Minbari chuckled. "You know, I once had an aide who would not look up at me. I told her that I could not have an aide who would not look up, and that she would be forever walking into things."

Lennier's eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened with recognition as his companion continued.

"She agreed of course – she was so timid at first, but very eager to please. But it took her awhile to get used to the idea, until one day she really did walk straight into a wall. Head first. I saw the whole thing, but I never told her I did. I never asked about the bruise, either. I'd like to think she was grateful for my tact." His smile turned from jovial to wistful then. "She grew so much, became so much more than that quiet, humble acolyte who came to me straight from the temple all those years ago. I knew she would do great things, but just how _much_ , I could never have dreamed. And she has so much more left to accomplish."

"Satai Dukhat." Lennier very nearly dropped to his knees in reverence, bowing so low that his triangled hands almost touched the ground.

"I knew that bright mind of yours would put it together eventually!" The former leader of the Gray Council sounded pleased. "But I meant what I said, Lennier – please look up at me."

Lennier hesitated. He had already committed a greatly forbidden act by even looking Dukhat in the eyes, let alone speaking to him without first being spoken to.

"It is all right," Dukhat reassured him patiently. "You needn't worry about the rules of reverence and humility – we are far beyond the need for that here. And I was never overly fond of them, anyway. My teachers in temple were always lecturing me on account of my frequent breaches of protocol. I never seemed to learn." He chuckled, and Lennier was finally able to bring himself to look up at him, not wanting to disrespect him by not doing as he asked.

"Good. Now, I sense that barely being held at bay by your quiet deference is an incredible pain. Tell me what is troubling you."

 _Could he not know?_ Lennier hardly thought that possible. Or perhaps this was some sort of test? Either way, the truth needed to be spoken.

"I failed her," he whispered. He found that despite Dukhat's urgings, he could not hold his gaze. He was too ashamed – he had let down someone they both cared about. He stared out over the water, his last memory of Delenn washing over him. He had been so weak and feverish that he could hardly stay awake, and her face, shadowy with exhaustion and stained with tears but just as beautiful as ever, had been all that he could see as the world had dimmed around him. She'd held his hand and spoken words of comfort to him, and for a single, wonderful moment, he had been at peace because he had known that no matter what befell him, she was there with him. But then he had awoken here and realized that it had been _him_ who had left _her._ And it had been the worst thing he had ever felt.

"An interesting answer," said Dukhat from beside him. Curiously, Lennier turned back to him, and Dukhat looked pleased that he had willingly made eye contact with him. "Most people would have responded with 'I am dead', or some similar sentiment. Or are you not troubled by that thought?"

"The simple idea of being dead does not trouble me," said Lennier quietly. "Had I died with honor in the service of the one to whom I have devoted my life, I would have gone gladly and without question. But I fear that in my last days I caused Delenn great pain, and now I can no longer fulfill my oath to be always at her side. _That_ is what troubles me about being dead." The surreal nature of the situation in which he currently found himself occurred to him. Prior to this moment, had someone told him that he would someday have the opportunity to speak with the great Satai Dukhat, his excitement would have been immeasurable. And had the meeting happened under any other circumstances, he would have been analyzing the religious leader's every word, looking for meanings within meanings and questions within questions. But now he felt no desire or interest in that whatsoever, because his pain at being separated from Delenn against his will so thoroughly permeated every thought he could form.

"My, you are every bit as devoted as she was." Dukhat's gaze took on a hue of distance for a moment. "Loyal to a fault, the pair of you. And I do mean a fault, in both cases."

Lennier instinctively bristled, not at the slight to himself, but at the one to Delenn. But he was distracted by the next words that came from Dukhat's mouth.

"Would it help you to know that you are, in fact, not dead?"

"What?" Lennier could barely manage a whisper. _Not_ dead? Then there was a chance, a chance he could get back to Delenn, to be by her side once more. But if he was not dead, then why was he here, talking to someone who very clearly _was_ dead? "I am afraid I do not understand."

"A perfectly reasonable sentiment," conceded Dukhat, his voice never wavering from the deep, kind, gentle tone he had used from the beginning. "Visions can be rather jarring. And I am afraid that just because you are not dead at the moment, it is not guaranteed that you will not be soon. I was only able to reach into your mind and create this vision because it is disconnected from your body, which barely has the strength to keep itself alive. You are quite the master of commitment, my young friend – you do nothing by halves, including being ill."

Lennier felt his hopes being dashed again, just as quickly as they had been built up. "So I am not dead, but I _am_ dying."

"Not necessarily." At Lennier's tortured and confused expression, Dukhat elaborated. "The reason I brought you here now is because, at this moment, you stand at a cross roads. There are three paths your future can take. I am afraid that one of them does end with you dying of your illness. But the other two do not involve this particular outcome. However, both of those will bring you pain, I am afraid – that is inevitable." His eyes softened apologetically. "But one path will result in your betrayal of the one you love the most."

"No." Lennier shook his head emphatically, his humility completely abandoned. "I would never, _ever_ betray Delenn. There is nothing in the universe that could possibly lead me to hurt her purposefully. I…I love her far too much for that." His thoughts flashed back to his conversation with Marcus only a few short weeks previously. He had only recently been able to admit his love for Delenn to himself, and saying it aloud to other people, particularly Delenn's former mentor, was not easy. But it did not change how he felt. He would gladly give all of himself if it meant she was safe and happy.

Dukhat uttered a soft sigh, but his voice was as patient as ever. "Oh, my young friend, don't you see? _Love_ is the very reason you will betray her. Your love for her will tear you apart if you allow it to. You think now that it is a pure and perfect love, but if you look deep inside your heart, I think you will find that there is more to it than you are willing to admit to yourself."

Lennier felt his cheeks flush with anger at the insinuation. But then he recalled the day before he had been hospitalized. He had stood watching Delenn and Marcus speaking in the hallway of Green Sector, and he had been infatuated with how perfectly beautiful Delenn looked. And then there were the times when he had felt not only the need to be by her side, but the desire to be _close_ to her, to feel her comforting presence next to him and know that neither of them were alone for the other's presence. And then Lennier realized that perhaps his pure and perfect love and devotion toward her might have the potential to grow into something more.

"But…she is destined for another," Lennier murmured. "I know it to be true in my heart. The knowledge hurts, I admit that now. But I cannot deny it. It is what is to be…isn't it?"

Dukhat nodded sagely. "Yes. That much is written already – it cannot be undone by any choice you make. Delenn and John Sheridan will together change the future of the galaxy. Their roles and fates are irrevocably intertwined, and their love for each other sealed."

Lennier nodded, unable to ignore the twinge of sadness in the pit of his stomach. "The Captain. I suspected as much, but I was never sure until now."

"She is in good hands with him, never you fear," Dukhat reassured him. "They will have their trials and tribulations, as do all who love. But they will come out all the stronger for them, and their happiness will endure as long as they are together."

"Her happiness is all that matters." Lennier could almost, _almost_ convince himself that those words were true. But Dukhat zeroed in on the tiny piece of him that felt otherwise.

"And what of your happiness, Lennier? Does that not matter to you, not even one little bit?"

Lennier opened his mouth to reaffirm his previous statement, but he hesitated for just the briefest of moments, once again remembering his last conscious seconds and how _safe_ he had felt, despite the direness of the situation, at Delenn's touch and reassurances. His constant focus on protecting her and being at her side to help her through whatever might come her way had precluded him from even imagining her doing the same for him. But it wasn't right – he wasn't worthy of her. She had endured so much and come through it all with such grace, and she had led their people with wisdom for many years. What had he ever done in his life that could hope to compare to that?

And that was when Lennier broke. He did not know why Dukhat insisted upon pulling his emotions in every direction and spinning his heart around and around until he no longer knew which way he wanted to go. But he and Delenn would never be together, and he didn't deserve her anyway – so what was the point of it all?

"If Delenn and Captain Sheridan are destined to be together, then who am I to stand in the way? He has power and influence and strength far beyond what I have. He can protect her better than I ever could. And he is a good man. They deserve each other. I…I would only be in the way. A burden, interfering with the happy life she deserves." His voice trembled and he blinked back tears, even though he held Dukhat's gaze. It was the truth – it had been there all along, waiting for him to open his eyes and see it. But oh, _oh_ did it _hurt_.

And what hurt even more was the obvious next course of action, which struck him so hard and fast that he nearly lost his composure entirely.

"Perhaps…" he whispered, his throat dry and painful, his heart pounding as he admitted the truth to himself as well as to Dukhat. "Perhaps it would be for the best if…if my illness did claim my life, after all."

He could hardly believe he had said it, having been so desperate to return to Delenn just moments before. But now that he heard it in his own voice, the hard reality of it settled like a yoke upon his shoulders.

Sadness flickered in Dukhat's eyes. It was the first time Lennier had seen any negative emotion from him, and it made him feel all the worse.

"I do believe she would disagree vehemently with that statement," he said softly. And then, without further comment, the great religious leader raised his hand and made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the river. The clear water shimmered for a moment, and suddenly a face materialized amongst the softly flowing current, as though Lennier were watching it on a screen. He felt his heartbeat quicken and he stifled a sob when the identity of the face became clear.

 _Delenn._

The picture panned outward, and he could see that she was in Medlab. She was sitting in a chair next to the bed in which Lennier himself lay. The Lennier who watched could not help but shudder at the state his body was in – skin pale, eyes sunken. He really did have the look of someone who was dying. He found he had no concept of how long he had been in that bed. He turned to look at Dukhat, who was watching the scene unfold right along with him.

"Are we watching these events as they are occurring?" he asked tremulously. Dukhat gave a single nod in response, and Lennier returned his attention to the happenings portrayed in the river, ignoring his own decrepit body and turning his thoughts solely to Delenn.

His heart twisted with agony as he saw how exhausted she looked. The hair of which she had taken such meticulous care since she had acquired it was flat and dull. Her gray eyes, normally so alight with emotion, be it laughter or anger or love, held a pain so deep that seeing it made it difficult for Lennier to breathe for a moment. As he watched, she leaned over and took his hand – or rather the hand of his nearly lifeless body – within her trembling grasp. And then she spoke, and Lennier found that he could hear her.

"Lennier," she all but whispered, her lovely, accented voice wavering with the tears that flowed freely down her face. "My sweet Lennier…I know you must be _so_ tired, and that you are going to a place where you won't be hurting any more. And I know that I should be happy for you, for your soul to be free of its burdens. But Lennier…" A sob overwhelmed her before she could stop it, and Lennier felt hot tears burning his own cheeks, his pain mirroring hers. "…I don't want you to go. I want you by my side, just as you said you always would be. I'm sorry I never told you how much your friendship meant to me. You are my dearest friend, and I do not know what I am going to do without you." She was openly weeping now. "Oh Lennier, please come back to me."

Unable watch her suffer any longer, Lennier ran forward until he all but teetered on the very precipice of the riverbank and then dropped to his knees, ignoring cold wetness of the mud as it soaked through his robes. He reached out with his hand toward the water until the tips of his fingers were the smallest of movements away from touching it. He instinctively knew that if he made contact with the surface, Delenn would be gone, maybe forever. But she was in pain, _so_ much pain. He had to get to her. The separation was overwhelming.

"Delenn, I'm here!" he cried. "I'm here, I'm right here!"

But she did not hear him. He called her name again and again, desperately willing either for her to turn and look at him or for his useless, lifeless body in Medlab to _do_ something. But neither happened, and Delenn continued to weep, whimpering his name as he all but screamed hers.

"She cannot hear you," came Dukhat's quiet voice from behind him. The calmness with which he spoke infuriated Lennier. "Her consciousness is grounded in reality, and yours in this vision. You cannot reach her."

"I have to!" Lennier whirled around so quickly he very nearly lost his balance where he knelt and went plummeting into the river. "I have to get back to her! She's in pain, I have to help her, I have to…" He was nearly choking on his tears by now, caught between begging Dukhat for help and looking back toward Delenn's shaking form. Helplessly, Lennier was reduced to watching, knowing that there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

"Please," he whispered, speaking slowly because he needed to fight to keep his voice steady enough so that he could even get the words out. "I'll do anything. But I have to get back to her. Please."

"So, then, you are willing to accept that she will never be yours to love? You do not wish to die and leave her to live out her happy life with Sheridan after all?"

 _DOES SHE LOOK HAPPY TO YOU?_ Lennier wanted to scream. Delenn had brought the unconscious Lennier's hand up to her heart, a symbol of deep affection. Distantly, Lennier remembered having done the same thing to her the last time he had been lucid. Even if he had possessed the strength to speak more than a few words at the time, he would not have been able to articulate what she meant to him. No combination of words in any language in the universe could express what he felt for her.

And it was then that he realized that the form that their relationship took mattered not, because love was love. Love was putting someone else's needs and happiness before your own. Love was giving everything you had for them, even if you had nothing left to give. Love was fighting as hard as you could to get back to someone when you knew they needed you. And Lennier _loved_ Delenn.

Slowly, he turned back to look at Dukhat. His chest and breath shuddered as he knelt in the cold mud of the riverbank, but his voice was as steady and as purposeful as it had ever been.

"She needs me. That is the only thing that matters."

The corners of the older Minbari's mouth turned upward, a hint of pride sparkling in his eyes. He waved his hand toward the river once more, and as Lennier watched, Delenn's face was caught by the lazily swirling current, and then it vanished from view. Lennier reached out in the direction the image had floated away, his tears making tiny ripples where they fell into the calm water near the bank.

 _The River Tuzen_ , he thought, the fittingness of the name not lost upon him, even in his compromised state. _The River of Sorrows._

He heard a light disturbance behind him, and he turned to see Dukhat standing over him, his hand outstretched. With one final, longing glance downstream, Lennier accepted it. He had no reason not to – Delenn was gone. The taller Minbari pulled him to his feet, and then without a word, walked over to the large tree under which Lennier had spent so many summer afternoons reading and studying as his friends played in the water. Lennier followed him, and when Dukhat sat down and leaned against the wide, gnarled trunk, Lennier imitated his example. They sat there in silence for a long time, the quiet broken only the sounds of nature – the gurgle of the river, the light wind whispering through the trees' leaves – and Lennier's tremulous breathing. Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours – Lennier found that he had no sense of the passage of time within his vision – Dukhat spoke.

"I must apologize for putting you through such agony, particularly when you have already experienced so much recently. But you needed to know the truth – how important you are to Delenn. While her romantic love is indeed reserved for Sheridan, she holds another form of love for you that is just as strong. And just as important."

Lennier slowly looked up at him, the tiniest bit of hope blossoming in his tattered heart.

"That brings us to the third path your future can take from this point. Should you survive, having let go of your physical desires, your relationship with Delenn will deepen. You will share a bond stronger than friendship, and you will be ever by her side, just as I know your heart desires. You are no longer a lowly priest, my young friend, or even only a diplomatic aide – you have a part to play in many great events to come. The galaxy is poised on the edge of enormous changes, and both you and Delenn have indispensible roles in those changes. But each of you works best at the other's side – two minds will become one, and two hearts will overlap and overflow. You will care for each other, comfort each other, and support each other. You will laugh together, cry together, and dream together. And together, you will change the universe. Wonderful though it may sound, it will not be easy – the road will be long and dark and incredibly painful. You must support Delenn through her trials, even though you will learn things about her past that may disturb you. Oh, yes." Dukhat lifted a hand to silence Lennier's impending protest. "We all have our demons, even Delenn. But your devotion to her is strong – I have faith that you will fulfill your role as her guide successfully despite the tribulations, and I have no doubt that your love for her will never waver."

Lennier lowered his gaze for a moment in acknowledgment that this assumption was the absolute truth.

"What must I do to ensure that I am set on this path?"

The warmth in Dukhat's smile made Lennier realize why Delenn had been so fond of him.

"Allow me to reassure you that you are well on your way. The moment you let go of her, you sealed this option. The only thing you must do now is _live_."

"But how do I do that?" Lennier asked, his voice quavering once more as he recalled the last conversation he had had with Delenn.

" _Delenn, it…it's not good, is it?"_

" _No, Lennier. It isn't."_

She had tried to be calm and reassure him, but despite his fading vision he had been able to see the terrible fear in her eyes. That combined with her desperation in the vision he had just seen in the river told him that his situation was truly dire. He was dying, and Delenn knew it.

"I would not give up on your Doctor Franklin just yet," replied Dukhat knowingly. "He is a troubled soul, and you have posed quite a challenge even for his strong intellect, but soon I think he will make what he would call a 'breakthrough'. And until then…until then you must cling to the thing that makes life most worth living. Cling to her with all of your strength, and know that she is waiting for you on the other side of your great trial."

Lennier closed his eyes for a moment, remembering once more his last fading moments with Delenn, as that inexplicable feeling of peace had washed over him. She had reassured him that she would be there, that she would not leave him.

"She is," he whispered in agreement. "I have to live. For her."

"Have faith, my young friend," said Dukhat as Lennier opened his eyes. "Both in your friend the doctor and in yourself. You know what we say about faith, after all."

Lennier was finally able to produce the smallest of smiles.

"It manages."

"That it does," agreed Dukhat. "I have been watching both you and Delenn, and I must say that I am quite proud of way you have combined faith, logic and strategy in the trials you have faced so far. I always knew it of Delenn. Of course, at the beginning she was so reverent and humble that she practically tripped over her own robes bowing at me, but after a time she grew in confidence and ability, and I could see just how brilliant her mind really was. And you are so much like her, in more ways than you can imagine. With her leadership and open-heartedness and your perceptiveness and devotion, I have _faith_ that the universe is in good hands, as long as you work together."

"I…I am not deserving of such compliments, Satai." Lennier's eyes flickered downward, but then he remembered to whom he spoke, and he forced his gaze upward. This action was not lost on Dukhat.

"You learn quickly," he chuckled. "Another similarity between the two of you. That is good." He cast his eyes upward, as though taking note of the position of the sun. "Our time here grows short, I am afraid. Soon, your mind must return to your body, and you must hold fast to life and to Delenn, as I have told you." The corners of his bearded mouth turned upward then.

"Allow me to offer you a parting piece of advice on behalf of our mutual friend. I know that your entire life has been one of service, and that you have been taught that caring for others is so much greater than receiving attention." Lennier nodded in affirmation, and Dukhat continued. "But do not forget that Delenn was also trained in the same way. I know it goes against your every instinct, but you must allow her to care for you a bit. You will be in need of it shortly. And by accepting her ministrations, you will in turn be attending to her needs."

Lennier triangled his hands and bowed in acceptance of the advice.

"I will bear that in mind, Satai. Thank you." He paused, gathering strength for the forwardness of what he was about to say to the great religious leader.

"Satai Dukhat, if I may be so bold…" he began hesitantly. Dukhat merely looked at him inquiringly, so Lennier swallowed hard and continued.

"Delenn cared a great deal for you, and I know she still misses you, even after all these years. She is the most important person in my life, and you helped to make her what she is. So for that, and for what you have done for me today, I offer you my deepest thanks."

Dukhat's expression took on a faraway look for a moment.

"And I have always cared a great deal for her. I am pleased that, despite not being able to be with her anymore, I have been able to watch her progress. I am very proud of her, but I am afraid you cannot tell her I said that. At least not yet." He focused his gaze on Lennier again. "You must keep this entire vision a secret from her until the time is right."

"How will I know when that is?" inquired Lennier. He had hoped to be able to share his experience with Delenn. He could only imagine the look on her face when he told her.

"You will know," said Dukhat simply, but in a manner that made Lennier know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would not be able to get any more information on the matter out of him. He was about to bow his respects again when he suddenly began to feel terribly sleepy. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but he found he could not fight it.

"Good luck, my young friend," he heard Dukhat say.

 _Thank you,_ Lennier thought. And then the sweet sights of his childhood darkened around him. The last thing he saw in his mind's eye before he knew no more was Delenn, still sitting at his bedside in Medlab, stroking his knuckles with her thumb, worry written across her every feature. Lennier felt his heart break for the millionth time, but this time he did not let overwhelm him. Because the fight within him had been renewed, and he knew it was only a matter of time until he was back where he belonged.

 _Hold on, Delenn. I'm coming._


	9. In Darkness, We Do What We Can

Vir lifted his cup of hot jolla to his lips, took a sip, and immediately regretted it as he felt his tongue scald. He had let the drink get too hot again. Vir wasn't exactly renowned throughout the universe for his rapt attention to detail, but he had been even worse the past couple of days. Londo had kept him busy as usual, which in this case was a good thing because it kept him distracted.

But every time Vir had but a moment to himself, his thoughts would return to his friend Lennier. He had not gone back to Medlab since he had been there two days previously. He told himself that he would only be in the way – Delenn was the one who truly needed to be there. If anyone could comfort Lennier during this terrible time, it was her. But there was a part of him, a dark part that he wished he didn't have, that whispered that he hadn't gone back because he was scared. Scared he wouldn't be able to handle seeing his friend like that. And that he was taking the easy way out when Lennier was suffering terribly.

His unsettling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his door chime. It was evening and he was not expecting anyone, which meant his visitor was very likely Londo with some task for him. Normally at this hour, Vir would have resisted his employer's demands to have whatever it was done _right then_ , promising him he would work on it first thing in the morning and ushering Londo out despite his protests. But right now Vir welcomed whatever work he was given, if only it meant he had something to occupy his anxious mind.

"Open."

The door swung open, and Vir leapt ungracefully to his feet when he saw that his visitor was, in fact, not Londo.

"Captain Sheridan! I…I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. But please, come in."

"Thank you, Vir." The captain had always been friendly to Vir, but right now his voice sounded solemn. And his eyes had an awful weariness in them – not the kind that Vir felt after a long day of being ordered around by Londo, but the kind he felt _right now_. Something was wrong. Well, more wrong than it already was. Vir swallowed.

"I'm sorry for dropping by so late," Sheridan began, sounding almost hesitant. He glanced around Vir's quarters until his eyes settled on the little table near the kitchen. "Do you mind if we sit?"

"Oh no, of course not! Please." Vir motioned to a chair with his hand. "Would you like some hot jolla? I've just made some. It's a little too hot right now - I burned my tongue on it - but it should be drinkable soon…"

"No, no, that's all right. Thank you, though." Sheridan exhaled audibly. "Vir, there's something I need to discuss with you." He looked meaningfully at the chair across the table from where he sat, behind which Vir still hovered.

"Oh!" Vir took his meaning and sat down, his nerves on edge and his hearts pounding. He folded his hands and set them on the table in front of him.

Sheridan hesitated, and it felt to Vir like the longest pause he'd ever endured. Then, the captain shook his head.

"Damn. You know, I've been a commanding officer for nearly fifteen years. You would think I would have figured out how to do this by now." He looked at the ceiling for a moment as though imploring whatever was up there – Maker, God, whatever nebulous being who may or may not exist – for strength. "Vir, I have some bad news, and it's made even worse by the fact that I need to ask you for a favor right after I give it to you. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Vir's throat had gone dry, but he didn't think any amount of jolla would have fixed it.

"I've just come from Medlab. Vir, I'm afraid Lennier's dying."

Vir closed his eyes.

 _No._

He had been trying to convince himself it wasn't actually happening for the past two days, but deep within himself he had always known it was very possible. But now that it was actually happening, he felt like his hearts were collapsing like buildings in a planetquake.

"Delenn sends her regrets for not coming to tell you herself, but she felt that she needed to stay with Lennier. I'm sorry, Vir – I know the two of you are friends."

"How long?" whispered Vir. He appreciated the captain trying, saying all the right things to soften the blow and allow him to process the news in his own way. But there was no way to make this better, no way to move the words around that would change anything.

"Doctor Franklin doesn't know for sure, but likely not much more than a day, possibly much less. Lennier isn't stable, and we nearly lost him once already. Franklin says his body just isn't fighting the infection, and he doesn't know why. But Lennier is just too weak to keep going for much longer."

Vir nodded and opened his eyes. It was as though he was collecting the information he was receiving and putting it into a box, which he would sort through when he was able.

"Thank you for coming to tell me, Captain," he said calmly. "You said there was a favor you needed me to do?"

Sheridan looked a bit taken aback at Vir's reaction – or rather, his lack of one – but he answered his question all the same.

"Yes. I know this is a lot to ask of you right now, but since you have contacts in the Minbari government, I was hoping you could find out how to locate Lennier's family. They need to know that he…they need to know. Delenn would, but…" He sighed. "Delenn's so heartbroken she can't function. I told her I would handle this, but I'm not exactly the most popular person with the Minbari. And somehow I don't think my informing them that a member of their diplomatic staff is dying aboard my station, no matter the cause, is going to be well received. It's not that I'm worried about my image with them – I just don't want to inflame our relationship any more than it already is." He shook his head in regret. "I just wanted to do _something_ to help her. It's not fair that I'm asking this of you, and I'm sorry…" He trailed off, his frustration with himself obvious.

"No, it's all right," said Vir quietly. "I'll do it."

"Thank you," said Sheridan. "I just need you to speak to the government. I can talk to Lennier's family."

"No, I…I'll talk to them." Vir hadn't thought that through before he spoke, but after he did, he realized that it was the right thing to do.

"Are you sure? Vir, you'd be telling parents that their son is dying. Do you really want to put yourself through that?"

"He's my friend," murmured Vir, staring past the captain and across the room, his gaze unfocused. "We…we just sat in the bar together, really. Complained about life. I guess I did most of the complaining. He just worried. But we told stories about our pasts and our worlds. Sometimes we even made each other laugh. It's been hard to laugh very much around here lately, you know?" He blinked and met Sheridan's eyes then. "I guess I just want them to know what he meant to me. I know it won't help, but…still…" He trailed off, not really sure what to say anymore.

"I'm sure they'll appreciate it," said Sheridan, his voice quiet but kind. "I know I do. Delenn told me that Lennier's parents live in Tuzenor. I'm afraid that's the only information I have to help you."

"I'm sure that will be fine. Thank you, Captain." Vir wished vehemently for Sheridan to leave. The box of his thoughts was full to the brim, and he needed to rummage through it before its contents spilled all over the floor. Fortunately, Sheridan seemed to share this desire, because he pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

"Thank _you_ , Vir. And…I'm sorry, again."

Vir only nodded, staring down at the table. He did not look up as the captain walked to the door and opened it. As Sheridan stepped into the hallway, Vir heard Londo's puzzled voice.

"Captain?"

"Londo." Sheridan greeted him abruptly, and then Vir heard his footsteps recede. From just outside the door, Londo made a puzzled "hmpf" noise, and then continued into Vir's quarters.

"Why was Captain Sheridan here?" asked Londo as he made himself at home as usual, unbuttoning his coat and throwing it across the arm of Vir's couch.

Vir did not respond. It was too late now – the box of his thoughts had overflowed and made a terrible mess. He feared he might never be able to get it cleaned up.

"Vir?" Londo moved to stand over him, sounding slightly annoyed by this time. "Did you forget to oil the gears in that rusty brain of yours again?"

Londo's standard form of insult did not even register with Vir, who still had not been able to bring himself to look up from the table. His voice caught as he spoke.

"Lennier's too sick to get better. He's going to die." He met Londo's eyes then, and the calmness of shock that he had held since Sheridan had first told him the news finally began to waver, and his voice shook. "My friend is going to die."

"Oh no." said Londo softly. With a shake of his head and a sad sigh, he pulled back the chair next to Vir's and sat down, looking suddenly ten years older than he was. "I had hoped the situation would not become so dire as that. Out of all the people it could have happened to… It's a damned shame."

Almost tentatively, he reached out and patted Vir's shoulder. It wasn't a strength-giving thump, which Londo was prone to providing – it was a genuine attempt at comfort. Vir felt like he should have been surprised, but anything else he might have felt was dulled by his grief. He lay his arms on the table, put his head face down in them and let silent tears fall on the smooth surface. Londo sat next to him, perhaps for the longest time he had ever gone without speaking in his whole life. His presence was awkward for that reason, but Vir knew he was trying to be comforting, and just knowing that helped the tiniest bit. Vir also knew that he should be getting to the job Sheridan had given him. And he would, soon. But right now…right now he just needed to sit there in silence with Londo and wish that his friend Lennier wasn't going away forever.

It was 03:19. Franklin's eyes burned from a combination of lack of sleep and staring at his computer screen for hours. He had searched every journal, every archive, every case report he could find. But time and again, he had come up empty-handed. The information just wasn't _there_. The human race had only known about the existence of the Minbari for twelve years, and due to tense relations (to use a mild term) between the two species, he just didn't have access to the information he needed. He had submitted a consult request with the Medical Council in Yedor, Minbar's capital city, but it sounded like they were having no better luck finding answers than he was. He knew he was chasing the wind – his efforts were almost doubtlessly futile. A sepsis patient in DIC was very rarely _not_ past the point of no return. But every time he looked up, out of the open door of his office and through the window of the room in the ICU, at the grief-stricken Delenn holding the hand of her dear friend in what were likely his last hours, Franklin knew he had to keep trying, no matter what it cost him. He had to.

"Hey, Doctor Franklin." One of his night nurses said as she stepped into his office. She'd spoken quietly so as not to startle him, aware of his frayed nerves, but he jumped all the same.

"Hey," he replied when his heart had taken a fraction of a second to stop pounding. He saw the data pad she held in her hand. "What have you got for me?"

"We ran another CBC and chemistry on Lennier, like you asked," she said, holding out the sheet to him. "I'm afraid it looks a lot like the last one, and the one before that. The neutrophil count has dropped, but that's because he's used them all up, right?"

Franklin skimmed the report, set it down on the desk and scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands. " _Damn._ Yeah. His body put up one hell of a fight, but it just wasn't enough. And now it's completely exhausted." He felt like screaming, throwing things, melting down. But that wouldn't accomplish anything. So he just shook his head, internalizing his frustration and defeat even further.

"Thanks for doing that," he told the nurse.

"Sure," she said, sounding regretful. "And…I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Me too."

The nurse left and Franklin picked up the blood work again. In his inability to discern a pathophysiology behind the development of Lennier's sepsis and his inability to mount an adequate immune response, Franklin had started throwing tests at him. It was terrible medicine, he knew, and it was because he was letting himself get emotional. Had he been working in a hospital or at an institution, he would have been pulled off of a case he was _this_ emotionally involved with a long time ago. But that was the thing about being the chief of medicine inside a tin can – you knew so many of your patients. And some of them were even your friends.

He went back over each parameter of the complete blood count and biochemistry panels, comparing them to the others he'd done – the one from when Lennier had been admitted a little over four days previously, and the one from two days ago. The nurse had been right – very little had changed, except for the declining neutrophil count that resulted from Lennier's body having depleted its stores of the innate immune cells, which were used to mount the first phase of a response to an infection. And he was beginning to become slightly azotemic – the sepsis was gradually putting him into kidney failure and increasing the levels of toxic metabolites in his blood. Everything else was agonizingly identical. Changes were clues, and Franklin was desperate for clues right now.

His heart sank further and further as he neared the bottom of the chem panel – total protein, albumin, globulins… Suddenly, he stopped reading.

 _Changes are clues. But what if something that_ doesn't _change is also a clue? Even if it looks normal?_

His heart pounding, he compared the globulin values from all three samples. Globulins included immunoglobulins, which were more commonly known as antibodies. After neutrophils mounted the initial immune response, antibodies were what came in to finish the fight. Lennier's were essentially unchanged throughout the entire four days, and all three counts were well within the reference range. Franklin had expected this from the first two samples – it took several days for an antibody response with a severe infection. By now, however, Lennier's antibody count should have been soaring. But it wasn't. Not even close.

Trying not to let himself believe he might have found something just yet, Franklin got up and hurried to the lab. The technician looked up when he heard him enter.

"Doctor Franklin? Is there a problem with the bloodwork?"

"That depends on what you mean by 'problem'. Do you still have the rest of Lennier's blood from running the panels just now?"

The tech glanced down at the rack of test tubes on his bench. "Yeah, right here. Why?"

"I need you to run antibody titers on it. Standard panel, but include antibodies against _Pseudocyanin ubique._ How long will that take?"

"About half an hour. You think you're on to something?"

Franklin sighed. "I'm not willing to tell myself that yet, because I don't want to get my own hopes up, let alone anybody else's. But in case I am – is there any way we can synthesize artificial Minbari antibodies to _Pseudocyanin ubique_?"

Franklin steeled himself for the worst – it was a pretty specific request, and he knew it. But the lab tech nodded immediately.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem. We have the base materials, and it should just be a matter of programming the parameters for the specific bacteria and host species into the computer."

Franklin couldn't believe his luck, even though it wasn't like he'd completely solved the problem. However, this was the first good luck he'd had in awhile. So maybe it was okay.

"Okay. I need you to get that antibody titer test running _immediately_ , and then start synthesizing those antibodies. Don't wait for the test results - Lennier doesn't have enough time for that. We'll need a good amount – he'll need a hell of a loading dose, and then a CRI after that. Can you do that?"

"No problem!" The little tech looked thrilled to be part of a potentially life-saving procedure. The fact that it was almost four o'clock in the morning did not seem to have any effect on his enthusiasm. Franklin only hoped it wasn't too late.

He went back to his office and tried to continue with his search where he had left off before the nurse had come in with the blood work. Just because he _might_ have found an answer did not mean he could afford to waste value time researching. But it took great self-discipline to keep his mind from wandering back to his revelation.

Thirty minutes later, the lab tech came flying through his door, holding out a data pad, arms trembling with excitement.

"Doctor Franklin, I think you're going to want to see this!"

Franklin grabbed the pad from him. After a mere ten seconds, he _finally_ had his answer. Lennier was adequately producing antibodies to every bacteria on the list – except for one.

"He's not making any antibodies to _P. ubique_ ," whispered Franklin in awe. "Not a single damned one. That's why he got so sick, and that's why he's not getting better." He looked up at the lab tech, who was so excited he was practically bouncing. "You got that artificial antibody ready?"

"Enough for a loading dose and to start a CRI while I keep making more. I already calculated the loading dose and drew it up, too." He proudly produced two syringes from the pocket of his white coat and held them out to Franklin.

"Thanks, buddy. It's too soon to say, but there's a very small chance you might just have helped me save a life tonight. Keep working on more of those antibodies – we're going to need a lot."

The little tech nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and rushed back to the lab. Franklin moved with equal swiftness to Lennier's room in the ICU.

Over the past few days, every time Franklin had walked into that room, he had braced himself for Delenn's look of hope and the way she would try to cover up her disappointment when he had no new hope to provide. But tonight, she did not even lift her head when he entered. It had been almost ten hours since Franklin had told Delenn they would lose Lennier, and since then she had barely stopped crying for a moment, though she alternated between full-scale weeping and sitting still and silent as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. Once, he had heard her telling the unconscious Lennier how much she cared about him and begging him not to go, and Franklin had needed to get up and close his office door to shut out her voice because he couldn't work if his heart was that damned broken. And Delenn had never once let go of Lennier's hand. Franklin supposed she hoped that his fading body still had enough of a connection to the conscious world to feel her touch and be comforted by it in his last hours. And Franklin hoped she was right, because Lennier clearly cared very deeply for Delenn, and he should have her comfort as he died. He was a kind soul and it was the least he deserved, thought Franklin. Although, what he really deserved was to live.

At that moment, Delenn was quiet, holding Lennier's hand in both of her own and simply watching him. Franklin could positively _feel_ the sadness radiating off of her, giving him the odd sensation of being almost telepathic. Without taking her eyes off of Lennier, Delenn moved her chair a bit to the side so that Franklin could reach the intravenous catheter that was housed in the crook of Lennier's arm. With a quick, silent prayer, Franklin emptied the syringe that contained the loading dose of antibody into the catheter, and then set about attaching the syringe for the constant rate of infusion, or CRI, to the accessory port of the fluid drip set so that Lennier would receive a steady stream of the medication.

By this time, Delenn had become aware that Franklin was doing something different than the normal routine, and she finally looked up at him. Her gray eyes, wet and bloodshot, searched his, and for a moment he saw the tiniest flicker of the hope that he had thought lost. But this was Delenn – he ought to know better than to think she had given up entirely, even if _she_ did not realize she hadn't.

"Doctor, what are you doing?"

He finished setting up the CRI and pulled another rolling chair over to sit next to her, his knee almost touching hers.

"Delenn," he said, hoping his tone and expression conveyed the hopelessness that was likely to continue to define the situation. "I'm going to tell you something, but because Lennier is _so_ sick, it's very likely that it won't have any effect on anything, so I don't want you to get your hopes up, okay?"

He might as well have told her he'd found a definitive way to have Lennier walking out of Medlab within the hour. Her eyes lit up, the hope that he had suspected dead resurrected in full. Franklin suppressed a wince, even though he had anticipated she would react like this. If Delenn began believing once more that her friend had a chance at pulling through, her heartbreak would be all the fresher and renewed if they lost him. But keeping this development from her would be even crueler, so Franklin explained what he had found. Delenn listened with rapt attention. The entire time Franklin spoke, her eyes probed deeply into his. She doubtlessly knew he was trying to spare her getting even more hurt, and she was trying to ascertain just how much she could _really_ allow herself to believe she might still have a chance at keeping her dearest friend.

"So these…antibodies you are giving Lennier will allow him to fight the infection?" she inquired when Franklin had finished talking, clearly trying to get all of the information she had just received straight in her mind.

"Only if he can dredge up the strength he needs and stay ahead of the effects the sepsis is having on his body, which is what I'm most worried about now," Franklin replied. "The blood work also showed that the sepsis has damaged his kidneys, and they're no longer filtering his blood the way they should." He saw Delenn bite her bottom lip at the news of this most recent threat to her friend's health. "I'm going to give the antibodies a few hours to build up in his bloodstream before introducing new IV catheters to try to prevent further contamination, but then I'm going to start dialysis. That means I'll hook him up to a machine that will clean his blood for him. It will give his kidneys time to rest and heal – if the rest of him heals, that is."

Delenn nodded slowly. "But Doctor, one thing I do not understand is _why_ his body is not making antibodies to this particular bacteria? You have made it sound as though it should not be that way, yes?"

Franklin sighed, running his fingers through his short black hair.

"I wish I knew the answer to that question, Delenn. It's an incredibly common bacteria, and the reason you and I don't get sick when we're exposed to it is because our bodies make antibodies to it. I don't know why Lennier isn't, but if he pulls through this, I _am_ going to find out. There's very likely a bigger problem at work here, and injections of antibodies aren't going to fix it. But if we're lucky – and I mean really, _really_ lucky – they _might_ just save his life."

He'd overstepped the line there, Franklin realized. He'd gone and sounded too hopeful. But the way Delenn's face lit up, after having been so sad for so long, wiped away just the tiniest bit of his regret. And when she suddenly threw her arms around him, he felt warmth spread through his heart, seeping through the frustration and exhaustion that had been piling up for so long now.

"A _might_ is all I need, Doctor," she whispered tremulously. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

He wanted to warn her again, to remind her that all of this was very likely in vain. But, perhaps against his better judgment, he remained silent. He would let her hope, let her believe, because Delenn, sweet and loving and affectionate as she was, was a force of nature. Not to mention how connected she and Lennier were. So maybe if she believed hard enough that Lennier would come through this, it might just happen.

He squeezed her shoulder before standing and leaving the room. But on his way out, he could not help but hear Delenn speaking softly to Lennier, her voice stronger and less shaky than it had been for some time.

"You can fight this, Lennier. You just have to keep holding on, and I know you can. It's just like I told you – there is _always_ hope."

Her words made Franklin smile a little despite himself. Perhaps he had been too quick to give up. He was a pragmatist – his profession required it. But interacting with and watching Delenn over the past few days had helped him remember the other side of why he did what he did – the emotional bonds between patients and their loved ones. It was the thing that made the job truly worthwhile, but it had been lost to him over the past few months. And even though he wished that he were rediscovering it under different circumstances, it was nice to see it again all the same.

In return for all of the hope he had just given Delenn, she had, unknowingly, given him a little of his own.


	10. Objects of Comfort

Somehow Medlab always seemed colder in the early mornings. Delenn shivered a little, pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders, and sipped experimentally at her mug of tea. It was _just_ cool enough not to scald her tongue, but it still sent a tide of warmth running through her body until it concentrated in her chest. It was such a small comfort, but a much-welcomed one. She was incredibly grateful to the night nurse who had taken pity on her as she had stirred from her sixth night dozing on and off in her chair, upper body draped over Lennier's bed.

As always, the first thing she had done when she had woken was to make sure Lennier was still breathing. He had been, and his skin felt cool but not cold against hers – as usual, she had dozed off while holding his hand. Satisfied that her dear friend yet lived, at least for the moment, Delenn had blinked fiercely and tried unsuccessfully to rub the sleep from her eyes. She'd sat up slowly, wincing as her back cried out in protest at the less than ideal position in which she had spent yet even more time.

"Good morning, Lennier," she had whispered tenderly, the action of running her thumb over his knuckles now so embedded in muscle memory that she was barely aware she was doing it. She had glanced up at the vitals monitor above the bed. Over the past day, Lennier's temperature had finally declined to normal. Doctor Franklin had cautioned her that this was likely due to a combination of Lennier's exhaustion and kidney injury rather than a sign that he was recovering, but Delenn allowed herself a bit of relief at the fact that her friend was no longer burning up as he had been. High fevers in Minbari were such terribly scary things, and she was desperate to take comfort where she could. But it had been a week now since she had found Lennier feverish and confused in his quarters, and four days since he had last woken. Doctor Franklin continued to give him the artificial antibodies he needed to fight the infection and take his blood for analysis every few hours. Last he had told her, there had been no change. That was to be expected, he had reassured her. Lennier would not get better instantly, if he was to get better at all. He needed time. But the more time went by, the more unsettled Delenn began to feel again. And she _missed_ her friend – his constant, steady presence at her side, perceiving and giving whatever she might need often without her even asking, be it a warm smile or reassurance or simple _closeness._ It was not just Lennier's role as her aide that Delenn had come to depend so much on – it was his friendship. And she would have given so much just to have her friend back right then.

Delenn had bit her lip as she reflected, and right then the nurse had come in to replenish the syringe of antibody and seen her troubled expression. Delenn had not looked in a mirror as of late, but she imagined she looked like a creature to be pitied.

"Ambassador?" the nurse had asked softly. It had taken Delenn, exhausted and lost in thought, a moment to realize she was being spoken to. She had jerked to attention.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the nurse had apologized.

"No, no. It's all right," Delenn had replied. "I am afraid a combination of grief and worry and lack of sleep have frayed my nerves quite badly. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was hoping perhaps I could do something for you," the young woman had said. Delenn had furrowed her brow curiously as the nurse continued. "It's just you've been here for days, and I think it's so wonderful that you haven't left your friend's side all this time. But you haven't been back to your quarters in so long, and since my shift is over now, I was wondering if there was something you'd like me to fetch for you."

Delenn had opened her mouth and then closed it again, at a loss for words at the simple yet pure kindness this young woman whom she did not even know was showing her.

"Thank you," she had managed finally. "I…I don't know what to say." She had felt tears spring to her eyes at the gesture, her heightened emotions taking over. The nurse had just smiled warmly at her and given her a few moments to collect herself.

And that was how Delenn had ended up with her favorite shawl and a large cup of tea. She had only asked for the shawl – the sweet nurse had brought her the tea of her own accord. Delenn had embraced her and thanked her once more for her kindness.

Now, Delenn sat wrapped up in the shawl, its familiarity helping to take the edge off of her anxiety just a bit. She had not realized how much she had missed it over the past days. It was for her an object of comfort; much like a stuffed toy _gokk_ would be for a small child. The shawl was made of _li'tiya_ , a soft, warm material woven in such a manner that it made the wearer feel as though they were being embraced.

Delenn had acquired it thirteen years previously at a market stall in Yedor, her home city. She had been visiting her father, and they had gone shopping together. It had been a wonderful day. They had laughed and talked and caught up on the events in each others' lives. Delenn had been preparing to be sworn into the Gray Council, and she could still remember how proud her father had looked as he smiled at her. ("My little ball of star-stuff, soon to be Satai!" he had exclaimed in wonder, and she had smiled at the use of his childhood term of endearment for her.) The shawl had caught her eye as they had walked past it, a deep red woven through with shining gold accents. Her father had seen her admiring it, and he had draped it over her shoulders and proclaimed how beautiful she looked in it and how she absolutely must have it. He had bought it for her on the spot, as a gift in celebration of her achievement. It was the last day Delenn had ever seen her father. She had gone back to work with Dukhat the very next day, and her father had passed beyond the veil before the war had ended, before she could see him again. And now, whenever she wrapped the shawl about her shoulders, she imagined she was being enclosed in her father's embrace. It made her times of trouble just the tiniest bit more manageable.

One of those times had been a few short weeks ago when she had been lying in Medlab herself, recovering from the wound she had sustained during the hostage crisis. Her and Lennier's places had been exchanged then, with her as the patient and Lennier ever at her side, his constant presence something to cling to as she endured her pain. Even though Doctor Franklin had reassured them that Delenn would be all right, Lennier had still worried. He had tried to hide it for her sake, but she knew him too well not to see it. And that worry had only heightened his already honed sensitivity to her needs and desire to serve her. She had been so grateful to him, and she still was. Every time she had awoken, he had been there, asking how she was feeling and how he could help her, all the while looking at her with those soulful, caring eyes that had dulled the pain from her wound and made her feel warm inside. After the worst was over, she had insisted that he go and get some sleep – he had looked so terribly exhausted, much like she now felt. After a bit of protest, he had left, and she had nodded off herself. When she had awoken, she had found Lennier dozing in the chair beside her bed, and she was tucked lovingly beneath her favorite shawl. She had not even realized he knew about the shawl – he had seen her wearing it, but she had never told him the story behind it. But Lennier was nothing if not incredibly perceptive – he had doubtlessly picked up on the fact that it was important to her and that wearing it brought her comfort. Delenn had been touched by the sweetness and thoughtfulness of the gesture, and the fact that he had noticed and remembered such a small detail.

"But that is kind of person you are," she murmured to her unconscious friend now, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "Always giving of yourself and asking nothing in return, and then thinking of new ways to give. My sweet Lennier."

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Doctor Franklin approaching. He was holding a data pad in his hand, and something in his eyes gave her pause.

"Good morning, Doctor," she greeted him as he pulled up a rolling chair next to her.

"Good morning, Delenn," he replied. Was she imagining it, or did the ghost of a smile grace his lips? "I just got Lennier's latest blood work back, and there are some things I wanted to share with you, if that's okay."

"Of course." Delenn placed her tea on the floor and leaned forward, her heartbeat quickening with trepidation. If Franklin wished to speak with her about Lennier's test results, it meant something had changed. She could easily be misreading the doctor's body language in her desperation for _some_ good news – perhaps the antibodies were not working after all, and she would still lose her dear friend even after all of this. But the more closely she studied Franklin, the more she began to suspect that something was different. He seemed to be attempting to conceal excitement, and the energy that radiated from him far surpassed anything he had given off over the past few days. Something was definitely afoot.

Franklin held the paper containing the laboratory results between them so that Delenn could peer at it. She had no idea what any of the strange words or numbers meant, but fortunately Franklin was very good at explaining things.

"There are a few values I've been keeping a particularly close eye on. The BUN and creatinine, here," he pointed to the corresponding numbers, "show his kidney function. They're not great, but they're better than they were. We'll keep dialyzing him and maintain a careful fluid plan and the damage should resolve itself."

Delenn nodded slowly, her tired mind working a million miles a minute trying to process what he was saying. But as was her way, she also tried to read the true message behind his words. _We'll keep dialyzing him. The damage should resolve itself._ Franklin seemed to be implying an indefinite time period for these things to occur. Did that mean what Delenn thought it meant? She felt her stomach flutter with hope, but she could not dwell on those thoughts any further, because Franklin was continuing his explanation.

"But now for the _really_ important stuff. His blood antibody levels to _Pseudocyanin ubique_ have risen and stayed up as we've continued to supplement him. They're far from normal, but the important thing – the really _wonderful_ thing – is that they've brought his bacterial titers down considerably, and they're still dropping. And because of all of that, his platelet counts are rising – the DIC is resolving itself. Delenn, he's fighting the infection. And I think he's got a good chance at winning."

Delenn gasped, her hand flying to her cover her mouth. Her hopes had been dashed so many times as of late that she had not allowed herself to believe Franklin might have good news. But there it was. _Lennier._ Lennier was getting better. He was getting _better._ After all of her grief and worry, after all of her weeping at his bedside because she thought she would never hear his voice again, her dear friend was getting _better._ Delenn felt herself begin to tremble, overcome with emotion, and Franklin laid a hand on her arm.

"Nothing's certain yet. I'll feel a _lot_ better when he wakes up. But things are looking so much better – they started a couple of blood panels ago, but I wanted to make sure the trends were real and not just an aberration before I told you."

"Oh, Doctor," whispered Delenn. It was all she could manage to say, so instead of speaking further, she threw her arms around him. Franklin returned her embrace warmly.

"I guess hope pays off sometimes, doesn't it?" he murmured.

"It _always_ pays to hope," she whispered into his shoulder. "And there _is always_ hope."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off thoughtfully before releasing his side of the hug, and she followed suite, sitting back in her chair. "Like I said, I'll feel a lot better once he's awake and talking. Anyway, I have a lot of researching to do about what might have caused all of this. I'll be in my office, okay?"

Delenn nodded, squeezing his hand in gratitude as he rose and left. She studied Lennier. He was still terribly pale, with deep black circles beneath his eyes, and the small bruises that covered his skin as a result of the blood condition he had developed - DIC, as Doctor Franklin called it - were still present. But they were beginning to fade just the tiniest bit, and his breathing was more even than it had been. And the beeping of the monitor that tracked his heart rate was less fast and urgent.

Delenn grasped Lennier's hand in her own shaking one and held it up to her cheek so that his palm touched her skin.

"Oh, Lennier," she whispered. "You have done so well. You've been so brave and strong. I _knew_ you could do it, and I am so proud of you." She lowered his hand down onto the bed in front of her, still holding it in her grasp. "I know you are tired and you desperately need your rest, and that I should not ask this of you so soon, but I want to hear your voice, Lennier. I _need_ to know you that you will truly be all right."

She inhaled shakily, and her request sounded more like pleading than she had intended. But it reflected the true state of her heart – hopeful, but desperate and exhausted.

"Please wake up, Lennier. For me?"

She was so wrapped up in her emotions, which held her even more tightly than the shawl about her shoulders, that she _almost_ missed it. But then she felt the slightest pressure of the hand within hers against her fingers. And then came just the softest of murmurs. She was barely even aware of it at first, but there it was - the voice she would have moved galaxies to hear over the past few days.

"I'd do anything for you, Delenn."

And suddenly those soft, loving eyes were looking up into hers and it was all Delenn could do to stop herself from taking his frail body into her arms, burying her face into his shoulder, and sobbing with joy.

"Lennier!" she cried, contenting herself with cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. "Oh Lennier, I was so scared I would never hear your voice again. Oh, thank Valen you're awake, my dear, _dear_ friend…"

The look in Lennier's eyes showed the same relief that she felt. His voice was hoarse and barely audible, but he smiled weakly at her and whispered words mirroring the last ones she had said to him before he had lost consciousness for what Delenn had feared so much would be the last time.

"Faith manages, Delenn."

"Yes, it does. It does manage." Her words came out half as a laugh and half as a sob. She felt him weakly press her hand as though he was trying to calm her, to tell her that everything was all right now. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then sighed shakily and smiled at him. Despite the exhaustion apparent in his eyes, he gazed at her with such deep affection, as though he could not look at her enough – as though he had missed seeing her face as much as she had missed hearing his voice. For she had missed him _so_ much. And she wished him to know what he meant to her.

"Oh, Lennier," she murmured, bringing his hand up to her heart for a moment before bringing it back down to rest on the bed again, still nestled in her grasp. "For the past week I have been sick at heart at the thought of losing you." Pain clouded his eyes at the reminder of the suffering he had caused her, but she stroked his knuckles reassuringly – he needed to know that none of this was his fault. Her touch seemed to calm him a bit – he still looked unsettled, but in his compromised state his need for comfort seemed to outweigh even his default need to serve her even at a detriment to himself. Delenn continued, hoping her words would help him feel better.

"But what made it even worse was the fact that I did not know if I would ever get to tell you how important your friendship is to me. Ever since the first day you came to me, you have just kept giving and giving of yourself and never asking anything in return. You are always there for me and you care with a depth unmatched. To have such a friend is an incredible blessing, and one that you deserve. I want to be that friend for you, Lennier."

Delenn was overjoyed to see Lennier's eyes shining with gratitude and warmth rather than a perceived unworthiness. He spoke, haltingly and with great effort, but his meaning was clear.

"I'm so glad you're here with me, Delenn. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I told you I would not leave you," she murmured, managing a smile despite her roiling emotions. "I do not break promises, Lennier. If you will stay by my side, then I will also stay by yours."

Lennier looked as though he wanted to say something else, but whether he decided against it or simply lacked the strength, she could not tell. He settled for a weak squeeze of her hand, and although Delenn wished to speak with him for hours and hours, she knew she would need to be content with that for now. The last thing she wanted was to tax what little strength Lennier had.

"Oh! But we should let Doctor Franklin know you are awake!" Delenn exclaimed, suddenly remembering that this was probably important. In all of her relief and joy, she had neglected to think of anything else but having her Lennier back. "I will be right back!"

Lennier's look of affection mingled with mild amusement at her unbridled excitement. She ran out of the room, her stiffness resulting from sleeping in the chair long forgotten. She swept into Doctor Franklin's office with such alacrity that the poor, tired doctor startled.

"Delenn, what…?"

"He's awake! Lennier is awake!" she exclaimed as he leapt to his feet in surprise, mouth falling open in amazement.

"What? Already?"

"Oh, Doctor, you've worked a miracle!" Delenn threw her arms around him for the second time that morning. "You've brought my dearest friend back to me. I do not know how to thank you."

Franklin relaxed into her embrace – it was as though Delenn could feel the stress of the last week physically draining out of him.

"Your joy and his recovery are the only thanks I need, Delenn. But I should check on him now that he's awake."

"Yes, of course. Of course you must." Delenn released him immediately, but Franklin just smiled and motioned for her to lead the way. When they got to the ICU room, Delenn immediately returned to her chair and took Lennier's hand once more. Lennier, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them to look at her and managed a weak smile. He was tiring quite quickly, Delenn could tell, but she supposed that was to be expected.

"Hey, Lennier! Boy, is it good to see you awake," Franklin said as he walked around to the other side of the bed. With a grin, he added, "Let me tell you, you sure know how to give a doctor one of the biggest professional challenges of his life!"

"I am not sure if that warrants a response of 'I'm sorry' or 'You're welcome'." Lennier attempted a chuckle but failed miserably. He seemed ready to give out then and there after only a few minutes of being awake. Delenn ran her hand up and down his arm, hoping to convey a bit of strength to him.

"I think both are appropriate responses," replied Franklin with a grin, already in the process of his giving his patient a quick once-over. "How are you feeling?"

"Terribly weak, and very tired," murmured Lennier, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. "And a bit cold."

"Well, you'll be glad to know you can have as many blankets as you want this time," Franklin replied with a smile, then addressed Delenn. "There should be some in the closet just outside."

Delenn got up and quickly located the closet. She selected a thick, warm-looking blanket and returned to the ICU room. She spread the blanket over Lennier and tucked it lovingly around him. For a moment, he looked as though he were going to protest that _she_ would do such a thing for _him_. But she smiled reassuringly at him, and his gaze turned to one of gratefulness and adoration.

By that time, Franklin had finished his examination. "Okay. We're going to have to keep a close eye on you for awhile, but right now things are looking okay, all things considered. You can go back to sleep now, but you have to promise you'll let me know if something starts to feel like it's going wrong, okay?"

Lennier managed a weak nod and mumbled "Thank you, Doctor," before his eyelids fluttered closed. Delenn kissed his forehead, and the corners of his mouth pricked upward briefly.

"Sleep well, my dear," she murmured, but he was already blissfully in the arms of his subconscious. Delenn held her palm to his cheek for a moment and just watched him sleep, his face so much more peaceful than it had been when the fever dreams and delirium had wracked him. Then she shut her eyes and silently thanked whatever higher beings there might be in the universe for bringing Lennier back to her. It was not a Minbari prayer, steeped in ritual – it was a human prayer, a heartfelt offering from the depths of her soul.

She felt Franklin's hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

"How is he, Doctor? Really?"

Franklin shook his head incredulously. "For a patient with severe sepsis and DIC, I'd say it's nothing short of a miracle. And I'm a scientist – I don't use that word lightly. Don't get me wrong," - he held up a hand to solidify his point – "he's not out of the woods yet. We've still got to keep a _very_ close eye on his platelet count, and his kidneys have taken a beating. He's going to be in Medlab for awhile, and on bed rest in his quarters even longer. He's got a rough recovery ahead."

"And I shall do whatever I can to help him through it," said Delenn with conviction.

Franklin shot her a small smile. "I know. I also know that if I tell you to go back to your quarters and get some real sleep, you won't listen."

"Not just yet," murmured Delenn. "I need to stay with Lennier until he is at least a bit stronger. He needs every bit of comfort he can get right now."

Franklin let out something somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh.

"Well, at the very least drink your tea. It's probably getting cold."

He left the room as Delenn reached down and retrieved her forgotten cup from the floor. The tea was tepid now, but that was all right. She no longer needed the warmth to fortify her. She had her Lennier back, and he had given her all the strength she needed.


	11. Piece By Piece, Becoming Free

Despite Lennier's improvement, Delenn remained constantly at this bedside. Lennier slept as though he was making up for an entire lifetime's deficit. He was barely able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time before his profound exhaustion overcame him.

But Delenn treasured those brief periods in which he _was_ awake. He would begin to stir and she would take his hand, and he would smile at her touch even before he opened his eyes. He would murmur her name with such happiness, his eyes glowing with warmth and love, as though every time he woke he was just as glad to see her and honored to have her sit by his side as the last. She would ask how he was feeling and he would try valiantly to look stronger than he felt. She would of course, see right through his façade. But his exhaustion and weakness did truly seem to be the primary things bothering him, and she supposed that was a blessing, given everything that had gone wrong in his body. Then she would make sure he was as comfortable as he could be, providing or removing blankets as needed, or helping him drink water. She would place her hands over his when they trembled too much to hold the cup steady, helping him guide it to his mouth and urging him gently to take small sips so as not to overwhelm his taxed system. He seemed so humbled by the fact that she would take on nursing him, helping him with such menial tasks. But, a bit to her surprise, he did not protest. Whether it was simply from lack of strength or from a deeper decision to accept her ministrations, Delenn did not know. But she was grateful that he accepted her help – she felt as though she needed it as much as he did. She was, after all, Religious Caste. Even those who had risen high enough in the ranks to have those who served them were still trained to serve. It was a habit she could never break, and one that she did not wish to.

Once Lennier was settled and comfortable, Delenn would talk to him until he fell asleep again. She talked of home, told him stories from her childhood, of the temple where she had trained. And Lennier would simply listen, a small smile on his face, until he fell asleep once more, his hand nestled in hers.

The afternoon of the day Lennier first awoke, John came to visit. Between dealing with the station's recent break from Earth, keeping an eye on the Shadows, and fielding the difficult requests Delenn had made of him on her own behalf, he had been run ragged. It wasn't until he walked through the door that Delenn realized that in her focus on tending Lennier, she had not told anyone else of his turn for the better. Vir, Marcus, everyone thought he was still dying. And so did John.

Lennier was peacefully asleep, so Delenn rose to meet John just outside the hospital room, and he immediately encircled her in his arms and dropped a kiss into her hair. He wanted so badly to be there for her, she knew. She could tell by the tightness and length with which he held her, as though he was trying to atone for his absence, even though she knew he needn't. It was because he was putting so much effort into keeping things going that she was able to spend all of her time with Lennier; to her, that was what truly mattered right now. And John knew about Doctor Franklin's breakthrough involving the antibodies. If it had still been certain Lennier would die, Delenn did not doubt that he would have abandoned everything – duty, EarthGov, the Shadows, all of it – and spent more time with her. But John still felt guilty; still felt he was being remiss in his support of her due to his absence from her in her time of need.

"I am sorry I have not kept you updated," she murmured after they finished their embrace. "I am afraid that all of my attention has been on Lennier."

"Don't be," he reassured her, resting his hand on her upper arm. "I'm only sorry I haven't been able to come. But how's Lennier? Have the antibodies Stephen's been giving him had any effect?" The urgency in his voice made her smile a little – while she was well aware that his interest in Lennier's welfare was partly for her own sake, he clearly held genuine concern for her friend as well. She supposed that was why she loved the both of them so much – though their personalities differed greatly, both John and Lennier had such caring souls. It drew others to them – to John for the self-sacrifice he exuded in his leadership, and to Lennier for the gentle selflessness with which he approached everything and everyone. She was so lucky, she thought, to have two such people in her life. Never again would she take either of them for granted.

"Oh John, our dear Doctor Franklin has worked a miracle!" she exclaimed. "Lennier woke this morning!"

"What?" The surprise on John's face gave way to happiness. "Delenn, that…that's amazing! That's such good news. Will he be…okay, then?"

"Doctor Franklin has been running blood tests and scans every few hours. He still does not know why Lennier is not making his own antibodies to the bacteria that made him ill. But since he has been receiving the infusion, the antibody levels in his blood have kept rising and the bacteria amounts have kept falling. His kidneys are still not working as they should, but the doctor is confident they will heal with time. Lennier is incredibly weak, but he is _alive_ , John. For all he has yet to face, he is alive. And with the blessings of Valen, it looks as if I will have the joy of keeping him by my side for awhile longer."

"That's amazing, Delenn." Sheridan shook his head incredulously. "Wow. It seemed a pretty done deal there for awhile. I'm not sure if I believe in miracles, but I just might after today." He squeezed her arm. "Delenn, this is such good news."

"It is," she whispered, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her back. "After everything that's happened recently, I feel like I have been reminded of the thing that makes life truly worth living – the people we love. And I now feel that I can face the trials to come, because my focus has been re-centered on this most important of ideals."

"This person who loves you would agree with that sentiment," John murmured, and Delenn smiled as he kissed her cheek lightly. She had lost so many people she loved in the last few years, but she still had many people she held dear. And of those people, two of them held the most special of places in her heart. One held her wrapped in his arms; the other lay in the bed in the next room.

Delenn knew that a war was coming, and that she could face it no matter what. But if _they_ were there with her – well, she would be all the stronger.

"Close channel," murmured Vir Cotto. The BabCom screen flickered off as he managed to locate the nearest chair and sink down into it. He was caught between smiling with overwhelming joy and not being able to stop shaking from sheer relief.

He had spent the past three days trying and, for the most part, failing to deal with his grief over losing his friend Lennier. He had expected to be upset by the injustice of it all – Lennier was, after all, so very young, and so sweet and caring. As Londo had said (or in so many words, anyway) it couldn't have happened to a better person. But Vir had found that he could not dwell on that, because he had been so overwhelmed by the desperate want for his friend not to be _gone_. He would muddle through his day – for life, as ever, went on – and then something would happen, some little thing, and he would, as always, mentally file it away to tell Lennier the next time they were at the bar together. And then he would remember that there would be no more of those times, that he would never see his friend again, or talk with him, or make him laugh, and the sadness would hit him all over again.

When the BabCom had beeped and said in its robotic voice, "incoming call from Medlab," Vir had frozen. This was it. This was _really_ it. The point of no return. His friend was truly gone. He desperately did not want for it to be real. But he could not leave the call in limbo – he had to accept the truth at some point.

"Yes?" he had whispered, his hoarse voice catching in his throat.

How surprised he had been to see Ambassador Delenn's face on the screen. _Smiling_.

Lennier was going to make it. He was so weak he could not even lift his head, Delenn had told him. But the doctor had solved the mystery at the last minute, and all signs pointed to a positive outcome.

 _"Oh Vir, I am so sorry you have had to go through this,"_ Delenn had said, her gray eyes wide. _"It truly did seem that we would lose him, for a time. He started to improve a few hours ago, but Doctor Franklin and I wanted to make sure the worst was truly over before we got anyone's hopes up."_

Vir had told her, truthfully, that it was more than all right. He could not even think about being angry that he had spent an extra few hours grieving, because that didn't matter. Lennier wasn't dead. He wasn't even dying. He was going to be okay, and Vir didn't have to be sad anymore.

As soon as he had entered Londo's quarters that morning, Vir had rushed up to his employer, resisting the urge to throw his arms around him. He had settled for grabbing Londo's arm instead. The ambassador's voluminous eyebrows had shot up.

"Vir? I hope there is an explanation for this sudden display of affection."

"I just got off the comm with Ambassador Delenn. Lennier isn't going to die after all! He's getting better!"

"What?" Londo sounded less annoyed than he might have. "I thought you said it was inevitable."

"Apparently Doctor Franklin found something new in a test, and he was able to intervene before it was too late. I don't know the details. But Londo, he's going to _live_! Isn't it wonderful?"

Londo snorted. "Typical stubborn Minbari. Cannot make up their minds about anything. They want to kill all the humans, then decide at the last minute they don't want to anymore. This one cannot figure out if he wants to die, or if he wants to live! And he puts everyone who knows him in a terrible temper in the process. Honestly, I didn't know the Minbari had such a flare for the dramatic." He scoffed, but Vir could not miss the happiness shining in his eyes.

Vir just smiled and went to start the day's work, feeing more at peace than he had in what had only been a few days, but had seemed an eternity longer. His world suddenly seemed so much brighter than it had before.

Marcus Cole sat on the frameless mattress in his tiny cabin, his hands grasping the scratchy edges of the ancient blanket, listening to the creaks and groans of the old freighter as it shifted through space. It was a grueling four-day journey from Minbar to his destination. From there, it would likely take him several weeks to complete his mission, and then it would be another four days back to Minbar for debriefing. He would not see Babylon 5 again for nearly two months. And the worst part was that due to the extremely covert nature of his mission, he would be completely without communications to anyone until he returned to Minbar. He simply could not risk transmissions being intercepted and his cover being blown – not for his own safety, but for that of the people whom his intelligence would protect. But now, a little over two days into the journey, Marcus could not fathom how he was going to conduct an extended undercover mission in his current state of mind. How could he focus when his friend was dying, or perhaps even already dead?

A mere couple of hours before he had left Minbar, a courier had handed him a data crystal upon which had been saved a transmission from Babylon 5. Because Marcus had already been in contact with the freighter, his communications restrictions had already begun, and he knew he could not reply to the message. He could only listen. He had gone back to his room in the Rangers' training facility, shut the door, and placed the crystal into the receiving port.

As soon as Stephen's face had appeared on the little screen, Marcus had known that something was desperately wrong. _Lennier._ Ever since the courier had placed the crystal in his hands, he had had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that his friend would be the subject of the message. It _could_ be good news, he had tried to tell himself. But one look at Stephen's expression had told him that this was most definitely _not_ so.

"Hey, Marcus," Stephen had said quietly. He'd sounded almost shaken, as though something dire had just happened. "I, um…I wish I could tell you this in person, or at least over a live channel. I'm sorry you have to hear it this way, but I figured it would be best if you heard it from a friend." He had paused, swallowed, and Marcus could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

"Marcus, Lennier isn't going to make it. He isn't responding to treatment at all, and he's developed complications that he's not going to be able to recover from. He just doesn't have the strength to keep going. I just spent two hours pulling him out of shock, but it's only a matter of time before he goes right back in, and I'm worried that'll be the end. I'm sorry, Marcus. I know the two of you were friends, and I'm sorry this is all happening while you can't be here. I also know you've lost a lot of people close to you and you're holding onto a lot of blame for that. But Marcus, you have to know that this isn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done even if you had been here, and Lennier wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself. Anyway…I'm sorry, again. Really sorry. Be safe out there. I'll see you when you get back."

The transmission had ended then, and Marcus had just stood there, rigid, staring at the blank screen, for several minutes. Then, he had turned to the little prayer area where he had spent the previous night with his doubting soul exposed, set out so intricately with its beautiful candlesticks and incense bowls, and smashed the entire thing an angry scream and one swift motion of his _Denn'bok_.

Now, he stared emptily at the grimy wall of the freighter's cabin. It was more of a closet really – just barely enough room for the mattress and his bag, with less than a square foot left over to turn around in. This process, should he choose to undertake it, required a sort of awkward dance that was unlike anything he had ever learned in Ranger training. Marcus had decided early on that it was safer just to back out of the room.

He ought to be focusing, preparing for the mission. He had but two days left before he was immersed, prepared or not, and his life and the wellbeing of so many others would depend on his ability to play his part, and to play it convincingly. But it was no use even trying to direct his thoughts where he willed them. It was natural to grieve when one lost a friend; Marcus knew that all too well. But the problem was, his grief was only part of the problem. He would imagine Lennier, lying in a bed in Medlab, drawing his last breaths as Delenn held his hand, and every cell in Marcus's body would be overwhelmed with the unfulfilled need to _be_ there. He didn't know what difference it would make – Lennier would likely have no idea he was there, and there was nothing he could do for him. And it wasn't like it would make Marcus's pain any less. So what did it matter, then?

 _"…I also know you've lost a lot of people close to you and you're holding onto a lot of blame for that. But Marcus, you have to know that this isn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done even if you had been here, and Lennier wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself..."_

Well, that was easy for Stephen to say, wasn't it? Stephen, who probably saved at least one life every day, well balancing out any debt he might have had on that matter.

Marcus regretted that thought as soon as he'd had it. Stephen had problems of his own, and his job was very emotionally taxing. He didn't deserve even an unkind thought. And he had only been trying to comfort Marcus, even though he'd likely known the attempt wouldn't be at all successful. But it didn't change the fact that he was wrong. Well-intentioned, but wrong.

The usual cascade of what-ifs came showering down upon Marcus, feeling like falling embers burning hundreds of pinpoint holes inside his chest. It was always the same. What if he had listened to William back on Arisia? What if he had just stayed with Delenn a minute longer when she'd gone to meet Captain Lennon? What if he had tried to convince Stephen to keep Lennier overnight for observation after he had collapsed? Or if he had somehow managed to defer his shipment to Minbar for another day – maybe somehow he would have gotten to Lennier sooner, would have gotten him help sooner, and things would not have gotten so bad. He was being ridiculous, he _knew_ , but that knowledge did not stop his grieving mind from thinking of ways things _might_ have been better if _only_ he'd done _something_ different.

Without thinking about it, Marcus pulled his _Denn'bok_ from the folds of his clothing and twirled it fluidly through his fingers. It was a nervous habit; the action was well etched into his muscle memory by now. He remembered Lennier's face the first time he had brandished the _Denn'bok_ in his presence. The rare and yet tangible piece of his people's ancient culture had excited his friend, ever the history aficionado, to no end. Lennier had been so enthusiastic, chattering on and on about everything he knew about the fighting pike – which was an admittedly impressive amount. When Marcus had offered to let him hold it, he had been so excited that his hands had trembled. Marcus had joked that it was a good thing he wasn't in possession of a rare, ancient vase instead. Lennier had been so fascinated with the _Denn'bok_ that Marcus was unsure if he had even heard the good-natured jab; Delenn had covered her mouth to hide her laughter. Had Lennier noticed it, Marcus knew he would not have minded her having a laugh at his expense – it would have made him happy that she was happy.

Perhaps the most unfair thing about the whole current situation was the manner in which Lennier was dying. Honor was such an important concept to the Minbari, and death with honor was a thing to be striven for. For Lennier, death with honor would be in the service of Delenn, not shaking with fever until he ran out of strength.

And it was then that Marcus realized exactly what he needed to do. A surge of agony mingled with conviction set off bombs inside his chest. He had balked, _fled_ from the idea mere weeks ago. But now, there was no way he couldn't do it. It would not be easy. It might even be the hardest thing he had ever done. But he would do it. For two people whom he cared about very much. It would be his last gift to one of them.

Marcus could not change the way Lennier was dying. But he _could_ make his death mean something, make _something_ good come out of it, small as that thing may be. What would Lennier want? What _Delenn_ would want.

And what did Delenn want?

Marcus drew a shaky breath, leaned with his back against the dirty wall, and shut his eyes.

He pictured his father and mother, their health failing. He had taken on all the responsibility for the mining company that he could as they got worse. He had felt so overwhelmed and out of place and claustrophobic on Arisia that he had constantly wanted to scream. But when his parents had died, within two years of each other, Marcus had been convinced that if he could have just taken on a little more, just a bit, he could have held onto them for longer. But he couldn't have, he knew now. He had done all he could, given even more of himself than he should have. His parents had been sick, and there was nothing he could have done to keep them there with him. They were at peace now.

The scene in his mind changed, and his younger brother William stood before him. Asking, persuading, yelling, and barely short of begging him to see his point of view. That the Rangers were not some cult of renegade Minbari; that "The One", as he called their leader, had not simply "gone native" as Marcus had heard but was rather a good and wise man; that the Shadows existed outside of scary stories told around the campfire and they were coming; and that Arisia was the perfect place to gather intelligence to try to prevent what would be the most terrifying and deadly war the galaxy had ever seen. But Marcus had held fast, staunchly refusing to believe a word he said. The look in William's eyes as he had walked out of Marcus's room that night had been one of betrayal – betrayal like Marcus had never seen. And then Marcus had left, and William had stayed. And when Marcus had come back, there had been no more William, no more _home_. All of it, _all_ of it had been destroyed. And Marcus had never been able to get that look of betrayal out of his mind – the last interaction he had ever had with his brother. But Marcus realized now that for William to feel that betrayed meant that he must have loved Marcus. And Marcus knew his brother. He had been hotheaded, but what he'd had in fire, he'd equaled in love. And he would have forgiven Marcus for his mistake. And he would have been proud that Marcus had taken his place in the Rangers, fighting for what he had thought was important.

And then there was Delenn. Marcus already knew she forgave him. She had, in fact, reassured him there was nothing to forgive. But he had still held onto the guilt. She had suffered, she could have died, and there was something he could have done to prevent it. If he hadn't been so stubborn, none of it would ever had happened. But it had, and there was nothing he could do to change that now. But he _could_ grant her wish, give her what she had so gently and earnestly asked him for. She had this way of knowing what was best for someone. He knew that about her, but had been too pig-headed, too _hurt_ to let go. But he was letting go now. Piece by piece, becoming free. It was late in coming, but he hoped it would make her happy. And if it made Delenn happy, then it would have made Lennier happy.

Lennier. There truly was nothing Marcus could have done. He still regretted not being able to be at his friend's bedside as he passed beyond the veil. He wished he could have said goodbye. But they had parted as friends, and that was some small comfort. It did nothing to dampen the suffocating ache in his heart, but he hoped that by letting go of his guilt and making peace with the ghosts of his past, he had made his friend's death mean something. It was a salvage procedure, but it was _something_.

Marcus tucked his _Denn'bok_ back inside his pocket and gently lowered himself into a prostrate position on the mattress. He shut his eyes and remembered that day on Babylon 5, with Lennier fascinated and excited by the _Denn'bok_ , and himself and Delenn laughing joyfully at his enthusiasm. It was a wonderful memory, one of those memories you don't realize you'll hold desperately onto when you lose the people they involve. He held it in his mind until he fell asleep - the first deep, restful sleep he had had in many months.


	12. Sacrifice and Strength

Despite her relief that Lennier had awoken, Delenn still spent those first two days on edge. Doctor Franklin had used a term she had never heard before to describe Lennier's condition - "touch-and-go". Lennier might be improved, be he was still terribly fragile, so much so that it seemed to Delenn as though any small setback might cause him to relapse, and she would lose him all over again. So she continued to sit vigil, watching over her friend as he slept, and reassuring him and providing him company during his brief periods of wakefulness. Doctor Franklin had been right – Lennier did seem to draw strength from her presence, and Valen only knew how badly he needed strength right now. So Delenn stayed, and was happy to do so, despite her ever-worsening exhaustion.

But Lennier would not be _Lennier_ if he were not constantly looking out for her best interests. In the early evening of the second day, he awoke and smiled at her as usual, but then his contented expression turned to one of concern.

"What is it, Lennier?" Delenn asked, immediately worried that something had gone even further amiss with his health.

"You look so tired," he whispered, his eyes wide with sadness. "It's all my fault."

Delenn did not think for a minute that Lennier was _trying_ to manipulate her – she honestly did not believe him capable of such a thing. But the effect was the same, and it was working. His pitiful expression tore at her heart.

"No, my dear, it isn't your fault at all. You know I want to be here with you."

"But you'll be ill too if you don't sleep." It was a feeble protest, but an earnest one. She couldn't imagine how awful poor Lennier must feel, being too weak to protect her, the duty he clearly held in the highest importance. So he was trying his hardest to do what he could. He would not be so bold as to _tell_ her to go and rest, or even to ask her. She could see in his eyes how conflicted he was – he was yet so unwell, and he wanted desperately for her to stay with him. But he cared about her wellbeing more than his own, and she did not wish for him to worry himself into another bout of illness. So she smiled and reached out to him, tracing the curvature of his face, running her fingers from his temple, down his cheek, and trailing off at his chin. He continued to watch her pleadingly.

"All right," she murmured. "If it will make you feel better, I will go back to my quarters and sleep. But you must promise me you will continue to feel better while I am gone. Do we have a deal?"

He smiled, and she felt warmth flood her heart. "We have a deal."

"Good. Then I will see you in the morning. Rest well, my dear friend."

"And you," he whispered, and she kissed his forehead.

Delenn poked her head into Doctor Franklin's office on her way out of Medlab.

"I do believe you will be happy to know that Lennier has _finally_ convinced me to return to my quarters and sleep," she said when he looked up inquiringly at her. Franklin's face broke into a smile.

"Good! Good for him. He's succeeded where I've failed."

She mock-glowered at him, but the effect was ruined as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Franklin chuckled.

"Good night, Delenn."

"Good night," she replied, hugging her shawl about her shoulders, and then adding, "but Doctor, you _must_ promise that if something goes amiss with Lennier, you _will_ call me immediately."

Franklin's tone and expression became sincere. "I promise."

"Thank you. Until tomorrow."

And so Delenn finally returned to her quarters, and after nine nights of dozing restlessly in a rolling chair in Medlab, she collapsed into her own bed and slept perhaps more deeply than she ever had.

Despite her exhaustion, she managed to wake at a reasonable time the next morning. As she drank a cup of tea and ate a bowl of spiced porridge with gusto – she had not realized how hungry she was after so many days of just picking at the food John had brought her, her stomach churning with worry far too much to eat properly – she went through the messages that had built up on her BabCom. Amazingly, she had not missed anything incredibly urgent, although she suspected John might have fielded some things for her without her knowledge. But miraculously, the universe seemed to be continuing to hold itself together. Whoever or whatever was responsible for the cosmic timing of events could sometimes be merciful. Delenn was grateful.

After breakfast, she returned to Medlab, eager to see Lennier despite only having been apart from him since the previous evening. She found she was looking forward to the sweet smile he always gave her when he saw her. That smile alone made all of the time she had spent in Medlab so worth it.

But Delenn did not get her smile. She was surprised to find Lennier awake when she entered his room. He had been sleeping so much recently that she had expected to have to sit at his bedside for at least a couple of hours before he happened to wake. He watched her as she walked in, but when she smiled at him, he tried unsuccessfully to return it. She could see in his eyes how much wanted to express his joy at seeing her again, but he just could not manage any kind of a display of affection. Something was terribly wrong. Delenn felt her heart flutter in her chest, just as it had ten days ago when she had found him shaking with fever in his quarters. The awful events of the last several days came flooding back to her all at once, and she sat beside him and took his hand.

"What is the matter, Lennier?" she murmured, noting with worry that what little color he had regained over the past couple of days had fled from his cheeks.

"It's nothing," he whispered, swallowing hard and shutting his eyes. After a mere couple of seconds, he opened them again and shivered, then tried to pull his blanket more tightly around himself, but could not quite manage for his weakness and the tangle of lines and leads attached to his arms and body. Delenn helped him, but, recognizing the terribly familiar pattern of the development of a fever, she glanced at the vitals monitor. She was surprised to see that Lennier was actually too cold – the screen read 97.2 degrees.

"I can fetch you another blanket," she offered, wondering if perhaps Lennier's weakness was preventing him from keeping warm enough on his own. But he seemed terribly miserable; something else had to be wrong.

"I am all right, thank you." His voice was barely audible, just as it had been when he had woken during the throes of his fever. He gazed at her wretchedly for a moment before shutting his eyes again and blanching, what little color remained in his cheekbones vanishing.

"Tell me what is wrong." Delenn laid her hand on his cheek. "Please Lennier, I am worried about you."

The knowledge that his reticence was hurting her finally got through to Lennier. He opened his eyes and met hers for a moment before lowering them.

"I feel sick," he whispered, almost as though he were ashamed of himself. "I can't sleep for the nausea and the chill."

"Have you told the doctor?" Delenn could not believe that Franklin would have allowed Lennier to continue to feel as awful as he clearly did without intervention had he been made aware of the situation. Lennier shook his head.

"Why not? He told you to tell him if something felt wrong."

"I knew…there would be setbacks." Speaking was clearly a great effort for Lennier, and Delenn felt bad for having pressed him. "I'm strong. I can manage."

"But this could be a sign that something is going wrong with your recovery!" exclaimed Delenn. For a moment, she was tempted to admonish him, her worry causing anger to flare in the pit of her stomach. But then she looked at him lying there, pale and absolutely pitiful, and her heart shattered into a million pieces. What had she expected? Lennier was doubtlessly so frustrated at his own weakness that he would do anything to prove to her and to himself that he was still strong in at least some ways. And he probably saw asking for even the doctor's help as a form of complaint – and complaining was something he never, _ever_ did.

"I am going to speak with Doctor Franklin. I will be right back," she said. Lennier needed reassurance, that was true, but right now he needed the doctor more. Lennier seemed to wilt into his pillow, but he said nothing as she left.

"Hey!" Franklin greeted her when she entered his office. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, but Lennier isn't," Delenn replied. Franklin's expression turned to concern.

"What's going on?"

"He says he feels sick to his stomach, and his temperature is too low. I don't think he's slept in hours – he looks positively miserable."

"Damn," murmured Franklin. "I think I know what's going on." At Delenn's inquiring look, he explained. "Up until late last night, I had him on continuous dialysis to filter his blood while his kidneys rested. You see, we naturally accumulate toxic waste products in our bloodstream as a normal part of metabolism, but normally our kidneys filter them out. When our kidneys are hurt, like Lennier's are, they don't do a good job and the toxins build up in our bloodstream. When that happens, it makes us feel bad. Two of the things it can cause are nausea and hypothermia. I had hoped that he could go a few hours without the dialysis – his numbers were looking better, and I wanted to ease his kidneys slowly back to work. But I guess it's too soon." He sighed and stood up. "Why didn't he say something?"

Delenn shook her head. "In temple, we are taught never to complain. It is a hard habit to break, especially for one as humble as Lennier. And he is not accustomed to being laid so low – I believe he is grasping for any semblance of strength he can, and in his mind that translates to bearing his discomfort in silence."

Franklin sighed again. "Oh, Lennier."

"Doctor, his kidneys _will_ get better, won't they?" Delenn had overheard the nurses talking at various points during the course of Lennier's illness, and she had learned that organ damage and failure were long term complications that could occur with sepsis. For Lennier to have come so far only to never be whole again – Delenn did not think she could bear the thought.

"I think so," said Franklin reassuringly. "I mean, in medicine we say 'never say never, always avoid always'. But they are improving, and that's a really good sign. I know it's hard, but try not to worry too much. Okay?"

Delenn afforded him a small smile. "I am afraid that is an impossible request, Doctor."

Franklin chuckled. "Fair enough. Anyway, you can head back now. Let me grab some ondansetron to help with his nausea and then I'll be right there."

Delenn thanked him and returned to Lennier's room, where she sat at his side once more. His eyes were closed, and for a moment she did not think he noticed she had returned. His face was drawn up into a wince, his brow tightly furrowed. Delenn took his hand and pressed it lightly in an attempt to comfort him, and he opened his eyes and immediately looked contrite.

"I'm sorry, Delenn," he whispered, but she hushed him quickly.

"Not just now, my dear," she murmured. "Doctor Franklin will be here momentarily. All is well; never you worry. Just rest."

Lennier nodded as best he could, unable to retain his remorseful visage for his nearly overwhelming physical discomfort. Delenn slowly rubbed up and down his arm, feeling him shiver beneath her touch and wishing with everything she had for her friend to just _feel better_. A long recovery was inevitable, she knew, but Lennier was strong, and she would support him for the duration. But for him to feel this utterly _miserable_ was another thing entirely. Watching her dearest friend suffer made her heart feel as though it was being wrung like a wet cloth.

It was not long until Franklin entered, bearing a syringe and a very warm-looking blanket.

"Hey, Lennier. Delenn tells me your stomach's not feeling so good?"

Lennier shook his head unhappily, tensing a bit as the doctor briefly palpated his abdomen.

"Does that hurt?" Franklin asked.

"No," replied Lennier softly. "It's just uncomfortable."

Satisfied, Franklin injected the contents of the syringe into the port in Lennier's fluid line.

"Okay. This is medicine to help with the queasiness. You should feel a lot better in about half an hour."

"Thank you, doctor," murmured Lennier, just as another wave of nausea hit him and he tried to lean forward to guard his uncomfortable abdomen, but failed in his weakness. Franklin reached for the bowl on the cart near the bed, but Lennier feebly waved him away after a couple of seconds.

"No…I'm all right. Really. The worst just comes and goes."

"All the same, I think maybe you should lie on your side for awhile, just in case. You might feel better that way, too."

Lennier lowered his eyes. "I'm not sure I can manage…"

"We will help you," Delenn piped up, eager to be of some assistance. Together, she and Franklin got Lennier turned onto his side, facing Delenn, whilst being mindful of all the implements attached to him. Then, Delenn tucked the blanket the doctor had brought around Lennier. Her ailing friend seemed a bit embarrassed by all the attention to his physical needs, particularly on the part of Delenn, but once he was all curled up and his shivers had reduced in frequency and intensity, he did look a bit more comfortable. When Delenn asked him if he was, he responded with a soft, "yes, thank you."

Franklin, who had stayed to restart the dialysis machine and observe his patient for a couple of minutes, took his leave then. But first, he cautioned Lennier.

"I know you don't like to complain, but if you don't feel well, you need to let me know. Telling your doctor if something feels wrong doesn't mean you're weak. Knowing what you're feeling helps give me clues as to how your recovery is going. For example, because of how you're feeling right now, I know we need to give your kidneys just a little more TLC before we send them back to work on their own. That's important information. So next time you start to feel worse in any way, promise me you'll let me know right away?"

"I promise," said Lennier. Franklin seemed satisfied with this answer, and he went back to his office with the reassurance that he would be back to check on his patient. Delenn settled into her chair, and they were both silent for a few minutes. Delenn desperately wanted to talk to Lennier, to provide him with the reassurance he so clearly needed. But she wanted to give the medicine time to work a bit, and she did not want to push Lennier out of sensitivity for his delicate physical and emotional states. Her patience was rewarded when, after several minutes, Lennier murmured once more,

"I'm sorry, Delenn. I never should have worried you like that. I…I don't know what I was thinking."

"I do," she said kindly. "But Lennier, you must understand – you don't have a single thing to prove to me. You are one of the strongest people I know."

"Even now?" he whispered, his deep brown eyes wide with the desire to believe what she was saying.

Delenn caressed the side of his face. " _Especially_ now."

Lennier's bright eyes shown with even adoration than usual. "That means more to me than I can express, Delenn." He paused, then managed a slight chuckle. "But, it's funny..." He trailed off, as though he were reflecting upon something.

"What's funny?" Delenn prompted gently, her curiosity roused.

He refocused his gaze on her, and Delenn wondered what she could possibly have done in her life to deserve the level of love in those eyes.

"You are the strongest person _I_ know."

For a moment, Delenn thought very seriously that her friend might think differently if he knew the truth. If he knew what she, in a terrible moment of weakness, had once done. But then she realized that it was very unlikely that even that awful knowledge would change Lennier's opinion of her. And perhaps there was something to his words – after all, when he had taken ill, she hadn't run, unwilling to see her friend suffer even though it upset her greatly. She had stayed by his side despite overwhelming exhaustion. To her, it had never seemed as though she had had an option – she would never even have _thought_ of leaving Lennier. But she supposed that a lesser person might have. Maybe she _was_ stronger than she thought. She smiled and ran her thumb over Lennier's knuckles.

"My sweet Lennier."

They sat quietly after that, each simply enjoying the presence of the other. After awhile, Delenn asked Lennier if his nausea had abated, and he nodded drowsily. Soon after, he was sound asleep at last.

Delenn stayed with Lennier all day, alternating between praying, meditating, and just watching her friend sleep. Lennier did not wake for hours and hours, his body doubtlessly trying to make up the rest he had been prevented from getting that morning. Around 17:00, Delenn heard her name spoken in a near-whisper from behind her. Recognizing _that_ voice, she smiled before she even turned around, her heart doing the same giddy little flips it so often did lately when she heard it. But when she turned around, she saw that the skin around John's eyes was wrinkled with concern.

"What is it?" she asked as he approached, whispering to avoid waking Lennier.

He sighed. "There's been some Shadow movement along the outer sector. It could be a false alarm – baseline movement that's just showing up differently - but all the same, I think we need to talk strategy. Ivanova and Garibaldi are meeting me in half an hour, and I'm about to go talk to Franklin. I know you still want to stay with Lennier, but Delenn, we _really_ need you this time. I'm sorry – I held it all off for you as long as I could. But the world outside Medlab was going to catch up with you eventually."

Delenn sighed. "I know. And I am so grateful for everything you have done for me these past days. I suspect you have intercepted more things that demanded my attention than I can guess, on top of your own responsibilities. But it just seems cruel for me to abandon Lennier now. You did not see him, John; he felt _so_ unwell this morning." She bit her lip. "I know I hold a responsibility to lead us in the coming war, but how can I lead when my heart is tethered here?"

John looked as though he was about to say something when they both heard Lennier whisper Delenn's name from behind her. Delenn immediately turned to him, instinctively taking his hand.

"Oh, Lennier, I'm so sorry if we woke you. Valen only knows how much you need your sleep."

"It's all right," he whispered, looking a little groggy but not uncomfortable. "I'm feeling much better than I was this morning."

"Good. That's good," she murmured, managing to smile despite her disquieting thoughts.

"Delenn." Lennier's eyes shone earnestly. "The galaxy needs you."

So he _had_ been listening. Delenn made a silent note to take all future conversations out of the hospital room and into the hallway.

"But you need me, too," she said, unwilling to just neglect Lennier whenever was convenient. She had done far too much of that recently, and ever since he had taken ill, she had resolved never to do it again.

"Yes," Lennier admitted. "But you'll be back, and just knowing that gives me all the strength I need."

How could Delenn say no to that? She did not _want_ to leave Lennier, but he had a point – she could not stay in Medlab forever. And if the galaxy came tumbling down about their shoulders, her friend's recovery would mean nothing in the long run, because they would all be dead. She was the chosen of the Vorlons to lead the side of light in this war, and she had a duty. But that did not mean that doing that duty would be easy. She sighed in acquiescence.

"All right. My dear Lennier, you truly are being so very strong." The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she gave his hand one final squeeze. "I will see you in the morning. Try to keep up your end of the bargain this time – you are supposed to be feeling _better_ in my absence."

"I will try," said Lennier sleepily, and he shut his eyes. Delenn turned back to where John stood, acting as though he was busy reading the labels on some medicine bottles and not at all listening to her conversation with Lennier.

"You go and talk to Doctor Franklin. I will join you in a few moments."

"Okay. And Delenn…thanks. I know this isn't easy for you."

She only nodded as he left. Lennier's breathing had already slowed and evened by the time she turned around. The strength he was showing truly was admirable – for all his pride in her and desire to put her needs before his own, he couldn't fool her. She knew him too well. What he truly wanted was for her to stay beside him; she could tell that her presence was restorative for both his heart and his body. She felt terrible that she was returning his selflessness by leaving him alone when he was so delicate.

She had worn her favorite shawl again that morning, and she instinctively pulled it tighter around her shoulders, letting the comfort and warmth she associated with it flow over her.

And then Delenn had an idea.

When Lennier woke next, the first thing he did was instinctively reach for Delenn's hand. It took him a moment for him to remember why she wasn't there. He was glad for her sake that she had gone with Captain Sheridan – Lennier had been occupying far too much of her time lately. And Delenn had very important things she needed to do. A lot of people depended on her.

But Lennier missed her. The feeling overwhelmed him much more easily than it normally would have – it seemed as though his raw emotions were taking as long as his body was to recover from the high fever. He remembered what Dukhat had said – despite the severity of his illness, Lennier found he recalled the entire vision with perfect, unaltered clarity.

" _I know it goes against your every instinct, but you must allow her to care for you a bit. You will be in need of it shortly."_

Lennier now knew exactly what he meant. A mere two weeks ago, he would have been horrified if someone had told him that Delenn would spend days sitting by his sickbed and bringing him blankets. He did not deserve such meticulous and loving care from _her_. But for the past few days, while Lennier had felt so terribly weak and miserable, having Delenn there had made all the difference in the universe. Like a sole beacon in a terrible storm, she had been what he had held fast to, her presence reminding him that things _would_ get better. Every moment she was with him, he felt just the tiniest bit stronger, and every time she swept her thumb over his knuckles she told him again without words that everything would be all right. He needed her. He _would_ be strong for her and put all his attention into getting better until she returned, but it was so much more difficult without her there.

With a shaky sigh, Lennier did his best to curl up more tightly. As he struggled in his weakness to adjust his blanket, his hand brushed a fabric different from the scratchy hospital covering. It was very soft, and the weave felt as though it had been done with great tenderness and ritual. It was Minbari – this he knew automatically. But beyond that, it felt _familiar_. _Li'tiya_ …could it be?

Lennier traced the fabric down and found that the ends of it were draped around his shoulders and resting on the bed in front of him. He lifted one up and examined it. It _was_ _li'tiya_ , of a beautiful dark red, with shiny golden strands shooting through it. It was Delenn's favorite shawl, the one Lennier had brought her while she had been recovering from her stab wound because he knew how much comfort it conveyed to her. He did not know the exact origin of its importance to her, but he could tell it held a great personal significance. And she had been wearing it when he had first woken a few days ago, as though she had been seeking the solace it provided as she worried about him during the worst of his illness. Lennier had watched her take strength from the garment during some of the most difficult times she had had over the past couple of years – surely now, after all he had put her through and with the galaxy teetering on the brink of a terrifying war with the Shadows, she needed her favorite shawl more than ever. But here it was, tucked lovingly around Lennier's shoulders.

 _Oh, Delenn_. She had been loath to leave him this last time – she knew how desperately he needed her, how her presence and her touch gave him enough strength to keep going. So in her absence, she had given him something that would evoke within him the feeling of comfort she wished to provide, something she hoped would remind him of how much she cared even when she couldn't be there with him. Something that meant a great deal to her.

Lennier rested his cheek on the corner of the shawl, feeling the soft weave of the fabric against his skin and thinking of Delenn. It was not the same as having her there with him, of course, but now that he had a piece of her, he knew he could stay strong until she returned.

The next morning, Doctor Franklin woke Lennier to examine him and draw some more blood for continued testing. So Lennier was already awake when Delenn came a few minutes later.

"Good morning," he said in what he hoped was a cheerful manner as she walked through the door. She seemed absolutely overjoyed when he smiled at her.

"Good morning," she replied, settling into her usual chair and taking both of his hands in her own. He felt his heart fill up with happiness at her touch, as though he had been dying of thirst and then finally taken a drink of fresh, cool water. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he replied honestly. "My nausea is gone and I am not chilled anymore. I think I am even feeling a bit stronger this morning than I have been."

"You _look_ better," she said, looking him over. "You are not as pale as you were yesterday, and you do not seem so lethargic. Did the shawl help with the chill?"

"That, and so much more," he replied, knowing full well that her intention in leaving her beloved garment had gone far beyond simply warming him. "Delenn, I…I can't thank you enough. I know this shawl means a great deal to you, and it brought me such comfort last night. It…it was so wonderfully thoughtful of you to lend it to me." He held out the corner of the shawl where it rested against his chest to her, indicating that she should take it back, but Delenn held up an inhibitory hand.

"You keep it for now, until you are well again."

"But Delenn…" Lennier protested. "It's your favorite." He hadn't the strength to formulate a better argument, so instead he just looked at her helplessly, hoping she took his meaning.

Delenn smiled warmly. "It is my favorite because of the comfort it provides me. I left it here last night in the hope that it would bring the same comfort to you. Since it clearly did, and you need it more than I do right now, I want you to hold onto it until you feel better. Unfortunately, I cannot be here with you every moment as you recover, although I wish that I could be. I only hope this will help a bit in my absence."

"Delenn, I do not know what to say," whispered Lennier, hugging the edges of the shawl to his chest. "I wish for you to be here, too, but I know this will help so much. Thank you." He instinctively lowered his gaze in anticipation of what he was preparing to say, but then remembered his experience with Dukhat and Delenn's profession of friendship, and raised them again. The action took just the smallest bit less effort every time he did it.

"If…if it is not too forward of me, may I ask _why_ this particular shawl brings you such comfort?"

Delenn reached out and tucked the red and gold cloth more closely around Lennier's frame. There was a sadness in her eyes, and Lennier instantly felt his chest squeeze with horror to think that his question had hurt her in some way. But upon further inspection, he realized that sadness was not the only thing he could see. There was also nostalgia, affection, and love.

"It was a gift from my father, on the last day we spent together before he died. Wearing it reminds me of how safe I always felt when he was around. Even if the entire universe seemed bleak, if he was there, I always knew that everything would turn out all right in the end."

"I did not know about your father," whispered Lennier. "I am sorry." _So sorry. You have lost so many people you loved. Oh Delenn, how you must hurt. I wish I could help._

"Thank you." Delenn smiled softly at him. The sadness in her eyes lingered a bit, but he could tell the grief was old – it was not the biting agony of fresh loss he had seen there when he had watched her in the river. "My father always worried about me, his little daughter out there all by herself in the big universe. I think it would have made him happy to know I have such a dear friend to guide me and keep my feet on the path. One whose very presence helps to calm whatever turmoil might be in my heart."

It was though she had read Lennier's mind. He could not make it all better for her, though he desperately wanted to, because that was simply not possible. But he _could_ help. And just as her presence gave him strength, so his conveyed the same to her. Weak though he was, he could still serve her. He could still follow the calling of his heart.

Lennier took Delenn's hand and smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner, and when she smiled back he felt joy stir the smoldering embers of conviction inside his chest. He had sworn himself to Delenn's side, and he was so grateful that after nearly having been separated from her forever, he had been granted the opportunity to stay there. Because there was nowhere else in the entire universe Lennier would rather be.


	13. From My Own Heart

Vir paced back and forth in front of the door to Medlab, clutching a thick book in his sweaty hands, trying to work up the gumption to go in. He did not know why he was so nervous. He knew Lennier was recovering, so it wasn't as though he was worried about him dying anymore. It had been three days since Delenn had called Vir to tell him Lennier would pull through. Vir had immediately called the Minbari government back to tell them to inform Lennier's parents that their son's impending death was a false alarm, but luckily they had never been informed. They were on some sort of pilgrimage, and out of contact range. Vir imagined that Lennier, who worried so much about hurting people he loved, would be glad they never found out.

Vir had desperately wanted to see his friend ever since Delenn's call, but something had stopped him. He told himself that Lennier was probably still too sick to receive any visitors, even though Delenn had been there with him the entire time. But if Vir _really_ thought about it, he wondered if maybe it was because he didn't want to be in the way. He and Lennier were friends, but Lennier and Delenn were very, very close, and Vir imagined that this was a sensitive time for them. They likely needed some time alone together. But now that he was here, nearly five days after Lennier had first awoken, he wondered if perhaps he should have come sooner after all. Maybe Lennier thought he had abandoned him. But that was probably putting too much stock in the strength of their friendship – a friendship founded primarily on sitting in a bar together. Vir probably needed Lennier more than Lennier needed Vir. Lennier had Delenn, after all. Lennier maybe hadn't even noticed Vir's absence.

Vir wasn't sure which one of all these possible scenarios he liked the least. But he had come this far, and he _did_ desperately want to see Lennier. Even if it was only just to watch him sleep for a few minutes and convince himself that his friend yet breathed. Actually, Vir was pretty sure that was how this interaction was going to go – Lennier was likely very tired, and Vir would not wake him, no matter how badly he wanted to talk to him. And he wanted to give him his present, at the very least even if it meant just leaving it on the bedside table while Lennier slept. Vir took a deep breath and went in.

He paused outside the window of Lennier's ICU room and looked in. To his joyful surprise, Lennier was awake. The little Minbari was lying with his upper body supported at an angle by the raised bed, all wrapped up in a mountain of blankets and what appeared to be a shawl of lovely red and gold fabric. He was still so pale that it made Vir's heart automatically clench with worry, and the dark shadows beneath his eyes provided evidence of the terrible ordeal he had been through. And even beneath all the blankets, Vir could tell that his friend, already small and slight, looked thinner than he had before. But he was awake, lying quietly with a soft smile on his face as Delenn spoke to him, occasionally nodding or responding to something Delenn said with a word or two.

After a minute or so, Lennier must have noticed Vir moving a bit because his eyes met Vir's through the window. Vir shyly raised a hand in a little wave. To Vir's mild astonishment, Lennier's face suddenly lit up, his brown eyes sparkling with happiness. Lennier was happy to see him. He truly was. Vir felt all of the nervousness that had built up in his hearts for the past several days melt away. Delenn noticed Lennier's reaction and turned to look over her shoulder; when she saw Vir, she, too, smiled brightly and beckoned with her hand for Vir to come into the room. Vir eagerly obeyed.

"Hello, Vir!" Delenn got to her feet, laid her hand on Vir's arm and squeezed it warmly. "It's wonderful to see you."

"And you, Ambassador," replied Vir, rather taken aback by the genuine happiness at his presence that emanated from the both of them. People normally weren't that happy to see Vir. It felt good.

Delenn turned back to Lennier. "I need to go to the meeting that Ambassador von Bartrado was kind enough to allow me to reschedule. I will return to visit you this evening, all right?"

Lennier nodded, and for a moment it was as though he had completely forgotten Vir was in the room. "All right, Delenn."

Delenn smiled lovingly at him and pressed his hand tenderly before turning to leave.

"Do not keep him awake for just too long," she urged Vir gently. "He needs to rest."

"Of course," replied Vir, recognizing that though her words were directed to him, it was just as much a request of Lennier as it was of himself. "Thank you, Ambassador."

Lennier watched Delenn go, holding tightly to the shawl around his shoulders, a slight sadness in his eyes. But as soon as she was out of sight, he turned to Vir, his expression brightening.

"Hello, Vir!" His voice was even softer than normal, but the enthusiasm that Vir had so associated with his friend since the day they had met was there.

"Hi, Lennier." Vir sank into the chair Delenn had vacated, placing his present on the table next to the bed. His legs felt suddenly weak with relief. The last time he had seen his friend, he had been near death. Now, though obviously far from well, Lennier was awake and talking to him, and glad to see him. Even though Vir had been told that his friend was recovering, he had not realized how worried he had still been until now. "How…how are you?"

Lennier sighed softly, lowering his eyes to his blankets. "If I am to be honest, I…I have had easier weeks. But…" He ran his fingers almost absentmindedly along the fabric of the red and gold shawl that was wrapped about his shoulders. "…But I am feeling better than I was, and continuing to do so. And Delenn has been so wonderful to stay with me. So, in all, I suppose I have very little to complain about."

"Well, you're handling this a lot better than I would, if I were in your position," said Vir, incredulous at his friend's positivity. But then again, the importance of Delenn's attention for Lennier was no secret. Her constant presence no doubt comforted him and helped to ease his suffering. But Lennier's quiet strength was still amazing to Vir, and he found himself feeling a deep admiration for his friend.

Lennier smiled at him with a soft fondness. "It's good to see you, Vir."

"And it's really good to see you. Really, _really_ good. I…" Vir broke off and swallowed past a dry throat, memories of the previous two weeks floating back to the surface of his mind. "I didn't know if I…if you would…it was really scary, Lennier."

Lennier dropped his gaze, looking simultaneously upset and humbled. "So I've been informed. I'm afraid I've caused everyone a great deal of worry. I'm terribly sorry, Vir."

Vir cursed himself for allowing his words to make Lennier feel worse. That had been the last thing he had wanted to do. "No! No, don't be sorry, Lennier. It wasn't your fault. We were all upset because we care about you a lot, that's all. I, for one, would have really, really missed you if you…you know…didn't make it. So I'm really glad you're getting better."

There he went, stumbling over his words again and saying all the wrong things. But then he realized that perhaps he had not said the wrong thing at all, because Lennier's smile had returned, small but grateful. It quieted Vir's insecurities enough for him to realize that he needn't worry about saying the wrong things. Lennier knew what he meant.

"Delenn told me that you came to see me while I was ill," said Lennier. "That was very kind of you."

"It was the least I could do," said Vir, once again regretting letting his fear of seeing is friend dying and being in the way of both medical procedures and relationships keep him from coming to see Lennier more often.

"All the same, it means a lot to me."

Lennier was trying to make Vir feel better, Vir knew, even though Lennier was the one who clearly needed to be made to feel better. He was awfully good at that – putting other people before himself, even in times like this. Vir wondered how he could reciprocate when he remembered his gift. He reached over to the bedside table, picked up the book, and handed it to Lennier, who accepted it with hands still connected to monitoring equipment.

"I…I got you a get well present. I know you're probably not up to doing much except sleeping right now, so it's okay if you don't get to it any time soon. But I know you're probably going to have to stay in bed for a while, and it's a really long book – exactly seven hundred pages - so maybe it will keep you from getting bored, or at least for awhile."

Lennier turned the thick tome over in his hands. " _The Three Musketeers._ It's in English."

Vir nodded. "A translation from the original French, apparently. It's an Earth book, from their nineteenth century. I haven't read it," he confessed. "I wanted to get you something to read, so I asked Commander Ivanova for a recommendation. I know you like to read nonfiction and technical manuals and such, and that this is a novel, but it's based on history and I know you like history, so…"

"It sounds very interesting." Lennier mercifully cut his rambling short. "I love to read novels, too, especially ones based in history and other cultures. I very much look forward to reading it. Thank you, and please tell Commander Ivanova thank you as well."

"You're welcome, and I will," replied Vir, grateful that his friend always seemed to know just the right thing to say. It was one of the things that made talking to him so easy when they met regularly at the bar. No matter what was happening in Vir's life, Lennier always knew exactly what to say to make it just that little bit easier. Vir was glad beyond measure that his friend was still around to talk to.

But at that moment, Vir decided that talking was maybe not the best thing for Lennier. His friend seemed to be getting rather heavy-lidded and lethargic. Vir recalled Delenn's caution and decided that it was time to let Lennier be for a while.

"You're tired," he observed. "I'll let you rest."

Lennier blinked a couple of times and then nodded.

"Thank you. For the book and for the company."

"You're welcome. I...I can come back and visit soon, if you'd like." Vir felt a familiar flicker of anxiety as he asked the question, but he should have known better.

"I would like that very much," replied Lennier, his voice sounding weak but grateful. He nestled into his blankets in preparation for a nap, so Vir turned to leave. But just as he was about to walk out of the room, he was stopped by Lennier calling him back.

"Vir?"

He turned back. "Yes?"

His friend's brow was furrowed in concentration, as though he were trying hard to remember something.

"I…I don't remember much that happened while I was ill. I was…quite feverish most of the time, and I am afraid most the memories I do have are too jumbled and twisted to recall. I know that Delenn talked to me for days on end and I wish that I could tell her that I heard and clung to every word, but the truth is, I am afraid that rarely did my consciousness surface enough to retain a memory of anything that was said to me. But…I seem to recall…" He stopped and shook his head. "Never mind. I must have dreamt it. The fever…"

"No, tell me," Vir urged, curious to know where he was going. He had wanted so badly for his friend to hear him as he had spoken to his unconscious form all those days ago. If what he had said had gotten through to Lennier even a little, had reassured him even the tiniest bit, then Vir would be happy.

Lennier thought hard. "It's just that, I seem to remember hearing your voice saying that when I got better, I could tell you about every ritual I'd ever learned in temple." He shook his head again, disbelief on his face. "But it _can't_ be true. No one wants to know about all the Religious Caste rituals, not even other Minbari. They are too extensive." He paused, and suddenly his eyes took on just the slightest of playful sparkles. "But…if one _were_ to say that to a very sick friend out of a desperate hope that they might hear them and use it as leverage to recover, I would think that that friend, once recovered, would release one from such a promise, out of mercy."

Vir's heart sang. So Lennier _had_ heard him.

"Lennier, you know I think all of your stories from temple are really interesting. I meant it. Every word. And I am a Centauri of my word – I keep my promises." He straightened his back to emphasize his point.

Lennier's smile was at once grateful and amused. "Oh, Vir. You truly are a wonderful friend." He adjusted his position against his pillows and sighed affectionately. "All right. We will start with the highlights, and then see how we go. Does that sound fair?"

Looking forward to many future discussions in the bar, Vir nodded.

"It does indeed."

Lennier's recovery was painfully slow, Delenn thought, but she just had to remember to keep reminding herself that it was a blessing and a miracle that he was recovering at all. Not that she had forgotten, of course. Only it was so hard for her to see her dearest friend in Medlab for so long. Lennier seemed to get a little stronger every day, a fact in which Delenn delighted. And no matter how slowly his convalescence progressed, he kept his spirits up, which in turn kept up Delenn's. But worry seemed to be second nature to her by now, despite the fact that Doctor Franklin had reassured her time and again that Lennier was progressing well. Even though he was getting better, seeing her sweet friend so very weak was hard for Delenn.

On the eighth day after Lennier had first woken, Delenn came into Medlab after what had felt like the longest council session she had ever attended. Everyone was nervous about the growing activity in the outer sectors – for although only the War Council knew of the identity of their emerging enemies, the others were aware that something was wrong - and it fell to her to calm all of the panicky ambassadors down. But Delenn did not feel at all calm about the situation herself, which made that job very difficult. And Lennier was always in the back of her mind – his kidneys were still not fully healed, he was still connected to his oxygen cannula, and he still did not have the strength to sit up on his own. On days like this, everything seemed like it was on the brink of going wrong, even when it was going right. But, even though the session had been a long and difficult one, it was over now, and she was ready to see Lennier, who never failed to make her smile.

She trudged to the little ICU room, physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion all swirling around inside her, making her feel as though she were being dragged into the floor. But when she stepped through the doorway and looked up to see her friend, her heart skipped a beat, and then began to race with panic.

Lennier was gone.

Most everything else was there – the dialysis machine stood by the bed, the oxygen cannula lay on the table, and the electrocardiogram monitor still sat by the wall. But the patient to whom they had all been attached – her friend – was nowhere to be found.

Delenn stood in the doorway, trembling from head to toe, her shaking hands clasped in front of her, knuckles rapidly turning white. Save for the testing he had undergone when he had first been admitted, Lennier had not been moved from this room for the entire two weeks he had been hospitalized. He was much too weak to go anywhere, save for being transported by the doctor or nurses. But Doctor Franklin had not told her of any planned testing. Which meant something surely must have gone wrong. Lennier's miraculous recovery had been too good to be true. He had been _so_ sick – everything had pointed to the near certainty that he would never survive this. But like a fool, Delenn had allowed herself to hope against hope that his body could fully recover from such an onslaught. And now something had gone terribly wrong and she would lose him all over again.

With a sob, Delenn turned and ran from the room and down the hallway of Medlab, searching wildly for any face she recognized, desperate to find her friend before it was too late. She came to a screeching halt, her shoes meeting the tile floor with a piercing squeak, when she almost collided with Franklin coming out of one of the patient rooms in the general ward.

"Oh, hey Delenn…" He stopped, taking in her state, her shoulders shaking and tears running down her face. "Delenn, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I…isn't that what you should be t…telling me?" she managed to choke out as another wave of panicked tears overwhelmed her.

"Delenn, I don't understand. Tell you what?" Franklin reached out to lay his hands on her arms as she sobbed, his dark eyes searching her face. Delenn balled up her fists in frustration. How could he _not_ know?

" _Lennier!_ His room is empty and I don't know where he's gone and oh Doctor, something's gone horribly wrong, I just know it!"

"Oh." Realization dawned on Franklin's face, and then it resolved into a smile. "Oh, Delenn. Go in and see."

He motioned toward the room he had just left. Delenn hiccupped and sniffled, but out of a lack of any better choice of action, she went in. And then she saw why the doctor had smiled. For on the bed was her Lennier, looking stronger than he had in two weeks. He was still attached to the fluid pump and antibody line via the intravenous catheter on the inside of his arm, but everything else – the electrocardiogram, the oxygen cannula, the pulse oximeter, and, most mercifully, the dialysis machine – were nowhere to be seen. And he was sitting up – he was supported by pillows, but he was not lying limply against the elevated bed as he had been before. Her shawl, however, was wrapped as ever around his shoulders.

Lennier seemed deep in thought, an unsettled and perhaps even worried look on his face. But he smiled widely when he saw her, clearly excited to share his progress with her. When he saw how upset she was, however, his expression quickly turned to one of concern.

"Delenn?"

Before he could even ask her what was the matter, she had run to him and thrown her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. Not understanding what was happening but able to see that Delenn clearly needed comfort, Lennier maneuvered his arms so that he could return her embrace without entangling the both of them in his fluid line. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and cried for all she was worth, the tenseness that had built up within her over the past few days and the culmination of it all in the ICU all flooding out with her tears. After a few moments, Lennier nestled his cheek against her neck and began to trace slow, small circles into her back.

"Delenn, what's happened? Why are you so upset?" His voice was fraught with worry, and she did not blame him. She drew strength from their embrace – the first one Lennier had been strong enough for since he'd fallen ill – for one more moment, and then separated herself and sank into the chair that Franklin had thoughtfully placed next to the bed in anticipation of her arrival, her legs giving out just before she touched the seat. Lennier reached out and took her hand, mirroring the action she had done so many times over the past couple of weeks. She inhaled shakily, another sob catching in her throat.

"Oh Lennier, it's nothing. I've just been a silly fool. But it my defense, it has been a _very_ difficult couple of weeks."

"You are not foolish, Delenn; you are hurting," murmured Lennier, his wide eyes searching hers for the cause of her outburst. "I…I wish to help, if I can. Please let me help."

She sniffled but managed a smile. "Oh, Lennier. Just seeing you feeling better is help enough. I…I went into your room in the Intensive Care Unit, you see, and…" The memory of her panic, still so fresh, flooded over her again, and renewed tears swam in her eyes. But she needn't explain any more, she realized, because understanding flickered in Lennier's eyes.

" _Oh._ Oh no, Delenn, everything's all right. They've given me a new room in the general ward, see?" Lennier motioned to the walls around him, obviously desperate to prove to her that she needn't worry. "You were so busy with the meetings yesterday evening and today that Doctor Franklin wasn't able to tell you, but he said I…what was the phrase?... 'turned a corner' yesterday. I am not exactly sure what corner he meant. I think it is a metaphor. But he says my kidneys are fully healed, so I do not need to be on dialysis anymore. And when I woke this morning I just _felt_ stronger. Since the doctor isn't worried about my heart or oxygen levels anymore, he said I could get by with less monitoring, so they moved me out of the ICU. It's quieter here, and easier to rest. I like it better." There was such earnestness in his eyes. His need for her to know that he was all right was clearly almost overwhelming to him. And Delenn longed to be able to show him that she was reassured, but now that her raw emotions had been brought to the surface, she just could not seem to push them down. Her weeping now a result of a combination of leftover panic and relief at the improvement in her friend's condition, she tried and failed to stifle another sob. Lennier seemed to wilt before her eyes when he realized that his attempts at comfort had been in vain. But he did not give up.

"Please don't cry, Delenn. I'm all right, really. I'm feeling ever so much better." That much too familiar look was back on his face, the one that said he was horrified that he had caused her pain.

"I'm so glad, Lennier," she whispered shakily. "And it isn't your fault I'm upset. It is just that I have been _so_ worried about you. And now with every ambassador on the station in a panic over the movement in the outer sectors, I am afraid that it was only a matter of time before my strength wavered. And when I walked into your room and could not find you, my troubled mind told me that the only explanation was that something terrible had happened. And suddenly, that entire, _awful_ week came flooding back to me. And all I could think about was you in that bed, shaking with fever and so far away from me, a breath away from the grave…and…and I…oh Lennier…"

The tears inundated her once more. Distantly, she felt Lennier take her other hand so that he held both of them in his own. And then, hesitantly at first, he began to run his thumbs over her knuckles, as she had for him so many times in the past days. The loving concern in his eyes combined with the sweetness of his actions finally began to bring comfort to Delenn's troubled heart and quell her tears a bit. Seeing that he was finally having some effect, Lennier continued his ministrations, silently reassuring her and giving her strength with each pass of his thumbs. After a long while, Delenn's weeping calmed to merely shaky breathing, and she moved her hands within Lennier's and squeezed them in thanks for his support.

"I am sorry, Delenn," whispered Lennier. Delenn looked up at him, fully expecting his gaze to be lowered in deference and humility. But to her surprise, he was looking directly at her. "I…I know it isn't my fault I was ill, but I still cannot help but feel terrible that you've suffered and worried so much on my account. It means the universe to me that you care so much. But that doesn't change the fact that I've hurt you." The slightest of trembles caught at the edge of his voice. "The very idea that I have caused you pain…Delenn, I…"

"I know," she murmured, knowing that reassuring him yet again that it was not his fault would not help this time. "I know you, Lennier, and so I know that even though there was nothing you could have done, this still hurts you incredibly. But try as you might, you cannot protect me from my own heart." Lennier swallowed and stared down at the blanket across his lap, but he met her eyes again when she laid a hand on his cheek.

"However, you _can_ – and _do_ – bring me all the joy I need to overcome the worries and the pain."

Lennier afforded her a tremulous smile, and it was enough to restore enough peace in her heart to chase away her worry and panic.

"And speaking of bringing me joy – just look at you! You are sitting up, Lennier!"

His smile brightened. "I am, and I managed it on my own, too. I really do feel stronger, Delenn."

"I am gladdened beyond words to hear that, my friend," she murmured. "But Lennier, when I first came in here, you seemed worried. I have been so caught up in my own anxiety that I am afraid I have neglected to ask you if you are all right."

Despite how quickly he quelled it, Delenn did not miss the flash of unease that ran across Lennier's gaze.

"It…it's nothing."

She pressed his hand. "Are you certain? It does not seem like nothing."

He smiled sadly. "Even if it _was_ something, worrying about it would not make it any better. But it is nothing, so that is a moot point."

Delenn did not believe him for a moment, but he clearly did not want to trouble her with it. She wished he would confide in her; for in her mind, their friendship allowed them each to entrust the other with the burdens of their hearts and in turn receive comfort and reassurance. But she knew that for Lennier, becoming accustomed to this idea would take much longer. Delenn might see the two of them as equals, but Lennier had had nearly an entire lifetime of being taught that he should never ask anything of his superiors, let alone trouble them with his problems. He needed time, and for her to be patient with him; she knew from personal experience how hard it could be to teach oneself to disobey the ideals drilled into one in temple. And since he had seemed so upset over having worried her only moments ago, she did not wish to press him; instead, she resolved to keep a close eye on her friend's morale. Lennier's emotional strength had appeared to be holding together incredibly well so far, but she wondered if at least some of the time he wasn't putting on a show for her benefit. Lennier was incredibly good at hiding when something was wrong, which meant Delenn would have to observe him with extra vigilance.

His voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I know you have said you do not wish to trouble me with work-related matters while I am recovering, but I've been feeling quite out of touch with the world since I've been in Medlab. So please tell me, how was the council session?"

Delenn smiled warmly at him.

"No business – I am holding fast to that rule. I do not want you worrying about any of that until you are much more recovered. The Shadows are moving, but we think it will yet be at least _some_ time before we are at war – that is all I will say on that matter. But…a story, I think, would not go amiss."

Lennier settled back more comfortably against his pillows. "It would not. Please, go on."

"Well, as I mentioned, everyone is quite on edge, but as you know, Londo deals with stress the way he deals with most everything – by talking very loudly to anyone who will listen. Well, he was boasting about the mighty and powerful Centauri empire…" She said those words whilst doing her best imitation of Londo's strong accent, and she felt her heart sing with joy when Lennier chuckled. "…for what seemed like forever when the Gaim ambassador finally interrupted him and said that if the Centauri empire was so strong, why could they not defend the whole galaxy from whatever new threat we might be facing, and have all of the other worlds indebted to them? They must not be very strong at all – or smart – to not have thought of that."

"And what did Londo do?" asked Lennier eagerly.

Delenn laughed to herself at the memory. "Do you know that dark purple coat he so often wears?" Lennier nodded. "Well, his face turned _exactly_ the same shade as his coat!"

Laughter at the memory overwhelmed her, and to her delight Lennier joined in, though whether he was laughing at the story or out of sheer relief that she was no longer so upset, Delenn was uncertain. But it mattered not, because her friend was _happy_ , or at least for the moment. With everything that had happened recently, Delenn had learned not to take a single moment for granted. And _this_ moment, with her friend feeling better than he had in far too long, laughing with her, would be one she would treasure.


	14. I Am the Santa Claus of Baked Goods

Vir Cotto scurried after his superior, panting at the effort it took to keep up with Londo's purposeful stride. What had started out for Vir as a perfectly normal trip to visit Lennier in Medlab, a trip he had been taking every couple of days, had turned into panic when Londo had suddenly announced that he was coming, too. Vir, who knew that Londo was not exactly Lennier's favorite person, had tried everything he could think of to talk him out of it without letting on that Lennier was less than fond of the Centauri ambassador. In Londo's mind, he and Lennier were friends. Vir happened to know that this opinion was based on exactly one night of playing cards, which if memory served had ended in a bar fight and Lennier taking the blame for something that had not at all been his fault. And much had happened since that night, and none of it had served to bolster Lennier's respect for Londo in any way.

Vir had to admit that Lennier's dislike of Londo did make him a little sad. Londo was loud, annoying, drunk all the time, quite needy, and made questionable moral choices on a regular basis. But despite all of this, Vir did care about him. Londo was lonely, and Vir didn't like to see people lonely. And Lennier was a genuinely good person, which was why Londo had targeted him for an attempt at friendship – the rather desperate ambassador had known that the polite young Minbari would be very unlikely to turn him down. Instead, however, Lennier had built up a quiet resentment for Londo over time – a resentment which Londo, of course, had no idea existed. Vir understood _why_ Lennier felt that way about Londo, and he supposed he could not really blame him. But he did not have to like it.

However, that matter was of less importance right now, because Londo was utterly convinced that he was going to go and visit Lennier at that moment, and Vir really did not think that was a good idea, a fact that he tried fervently to explain.

"Londo, I just don't know if Lennier is going to be feeling up to having all these visitors yet. It's probably for the best if you wait a few days."

" _You_ were going to visit him, and have been for several days now," replied Londo, with the pedantic tone of a parent explaining something to a child for the five hundredth time. "If he is well enough to see _you_ , then surely he can handle little old _me_."

Vir heaved an internal sigh of frustration. Londo feigning humility was perhaps the least convincing act he had ever seen. Vir frantically wracked his brain for excuses that would convince Londo to abandon his quest without hurting his feelings.

"But…I have only been going for short periods, just a few minutes at a time. He tires very easily. And…Londo, please just stop walking for a minute so I can talk to you."

To Vir's mild surprise, the ambassador did finally stop. Londo turned to face him with a look that said Vir's next excuse had better be a good one.

"Londo, you know Lennier. He's…well, he's Minbari. Their dignity and honor are so important to them, and I know Lennier would want as few people as possible to see him like this. It's already been very hard on him, what with having to be in Medlab and being too sick to take care of himself. As…as his friend, wouldn't you rather save him from further humiliation?"

Vir thought it was a rather well thought out excuse. By appealing to Londo's sense of mercy, he hoped that his employer would feel as though he had power over the situation, and that might obliquely convince him to give up his resolve. But of course, Vir would not be so lucky.

"Yes, Vir. But as his friends, would it not be better to let him know he has our support and our good wishes? I should think spending all that time in Medlab would bore a bright, active mind like his into another dimension – surely having someone to talk to will do him good."

 _You mean someone to talk_ at _him_ , thought Vir, his heart sinking as Londo turned on his heel and continued his directed march toward Medlab. Vir hurried after him, praying that at the very least Delenn would be there to defend her poor aide from the overbearing good wishes of the great and bombastic Londo Mollari.

Vir caught up to Londo just as they entered Medlab. Doctor Franklin was just coming out of his office, and while he was doubtlessly accustomed to seeing Vir around quite often by that point, he seemed mildly surprised that Londo was with him.

"Ambassador. Something I can do for you?"

"No, thank you, Doctor. Vir and I are here to visit Mr. Lennier…"

As Londo was engaged in his brief conversation with the doctor, Vir scampered away down the hall of the general ward. When he reached Lennier's room, he looked in the window and saw that his friend was alone, sitting propped up on his pillows, his nose buried in _The Three Musketeers._ Frantically, Vir rapped on the window with his knuckles. Lennier looked up immediately, smiling when he saw his friend. Vir gestured wildly in the direction of where his employer stood talking with Doctor Franklin and mouthed "LONDO! _LONDO!_ " as emphatically as he could. After a second's contemplation, Lennier's eyes widened in alarm. He quickly rested the book pages-down over his lap and then laid down, pulled his blanket over his chest, folded his arms across his torso, closed his eyes, and remained still. Vir sighed with relief just as Londo approached.

"Well then, Vir, shall we go in and see how our good and dear friend is faring?"

Vir shook his head emphatically and motioned for Londo to look through the window. "He's asleep, Londo. We _can't_ wake him."

Londo peered through the glass, and _finally_ Vir saw his determination deflate. The ambassador's shoulders slumped, and Vir could not help but feel bad for him. Londo really did just want to be a good friend. But Lennier was uncomfortable enough around Londo that, after what he had been through recently, it just did not seem fair to condemn him to any interaction with the overzealous ambassador.

"Ah," said Londo, much more quietly now. "Yes, I suppose you are right. We must let our friend get his rest." A sad smile played on his lips. "He does look rather peaceful, doesn't he?" There was a fondness in his voice that almost made Vir regret his part in the deception.

"All right," sighed Londo, turning away from the window. "Another time, perhaps. Come, Vir, there is nothing more we can do here."

Vir held up an index finger. "Actually…" He thought quickly. "…While I'm here, I ought to make an appointment for my annual checkup. It's been over a year, as the doctor keeps reminding me. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Londo raised an eyebrow. "A checkup? Pah. Centauri don't need checkups. There is nothing that can ail us that a bottle of good Brivari cannot fix." But then he glanced once more through the window at Lennier, who was still putting on his best performance of a peacefully sleeping convalescent. "But then again, I suppose I should not take the health of my attaché for granted. I imagine Delenn is having quite a difficult time without hers for so long. Make your appointment; join me in my quarters when you are finished."

"Thank you, Londo," said Vir respectfully, and he made to head in the direction of the receptionist. However, as soon as Londo had left Medlab, Vir hurried back to Lennier's room and stuck his head in the doorway.

"All clear. He's gone."

Lennier opened his eyes and sat up as Vir approached and settled into the chair next to the bed.

"Thank you for that," Lennier said with a smile. "I'm afraid I am not quite feeling up to dealing with Londo just now."

"I thought you might say something like that," replied Vir with an unhappy sigh. Lennier regarded him inquiringly.

"He means well, Lennier. I know he's done some bad things, and you have every right to be upset with him for that. But he cares about you."

Lennier scoffed softly. "I have never particularly gotten that impression from Londo. I do distinctly remember nursing a black eye on his behalf, though."

His reaction upset Vir more than he'd thought it would. "Lennier, you didn't see him. When we thought you were dying, he was genuinely really upset. He sees you as a friend, and he's not asking anything of you – not anymore. I'm not saying you have to do anything now – you absolutely deserve to have all the time you need to recover before you deal with Londo. But at some point, maybe…maybe give him a chance? Just a little one?" Vir held up his forefinger and thumb, spacing them a hair's breadth apart, to illustrate his point.

Lennier's eyes flashed, though his tone was as calm as ever. "With respect, Vir, why should I? What has Londo ever done for me, or for anyone for that matter?"

"Because friendship isn't about owing something to someone." Lennier lowered his eyes, obviously contemplating Vir's meaning. Vir continued. "The Religious Caste are all about understanding right? Can't you try to understand Londo just a little bit?"

"Oh, I've tried to understand Londo. And I've failed miserably," muttered Lennier. But Vir wasn't going to give up.

"Lennier," he said plaintively, "Londo's my friend. I care about him. He was really disappointed when he couldn't talk to you just now, and I don't like to see my friends hurting. So if you don't do it for him, or for yourself, could you do it for me? Please?"

For a moment, Lennier looked as though he was going to protest. But then he sighed resignedly and hugged Delenn's shawl close to his body.

"All right, Vir," he murmured, running the soft red and gold cloth through his fingers. "If it is important to you, then I will give Londo a chance, as you say. And I am sorry if my previous attitude toward him caused you pain. You _are_ my friend, Vir, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"I know." Vir pulled his friend into an embrace, making sure to be gentle on his yet fragile body. He heard Lennier catch his breath softly, but then the little Minbari warmly returned the hug. When they separated after several seconds, Lennier was smiling.

"Thank you," said Vir. "This means a lot."

"You are welcome," replied Lennier. "And…thank _you_. Even though I spent the majority of my life in temple, apparently I occasionally forget that we are all children of the universe, and therefore we all deserve a chance. Maybe even more than one. You reminded me of that."

Vir smiled wide enough to reveal his pointed front teeth, unable to suppress his joy at the fact that these two people whom he cared very much about might finally get along. They would never be the best of friends, he knew – Vir was a dreamer, but not delusional. But maybe Lennier would not be so palpably uncomfortable around Londo anymore, and Londo's attempts at friendship would actually be reciprocated, at least a little. Satisfied with that particular situation for now, he felt finally able to move on to actually visiting his friend.

"How've you been feeling?"

"Better. I'm getting a little stronger every day. Doctor Franklin says that in a couple of days I should be able to get out of bed a bit." His eyes danced with enthusiasm, reminding Vir intensely of the very first time they had met in the bar. Here was the Lennier he knew. His heart felt warm.

"That's wonderful news!"

"It won't be anything grand – just short walks up and down the hall, with assistance. But it will be such a welcome change." The excitement faded a bit from his eyes then, and Vir found himself longing for it to return. "I am so desperately tired of being confined to bed. I want more than anything to go back to work. I know I am nowhere near well enough to do so, but I cannot help but wish I were at Delenn's side once more. It is like my purpose has been taken away from me, and I am less than whole without it." He hugged the shawl around himself again and stared down at his blankets.

"And you miss her, don't you?" asked Vir softly, reading the meaning between Lennier's words. Lennier startled a bit at the forwardness of the question, but then nodded.

"I know I shouldn't. She has given so much of her time and of herself to me since I've been ill. I have kept her from her work, her life, everything. But even so, I cannot help but wish she were here with me." He hugged his knees to his chest, looking guilty.

"It's okay. You've been through an awful lot, Lennier. It's normal to want comfort when you're not feeling like yourself. And I think Delenn understands that."

"I know she does," said Lennier softly, his gaze distant and full of love. "Delenn has been so indescribably kind and caring throughout this whole thing." He focused on Vir then. "And I'm grateful for your company too, Vir. It is nice to know I have friends who care about me."

Vir wondered how someone as nice as Lennier could ever have doubted that he had friends who cared about him, but he supposed his friend did have a bit of a tendency toward insecurity. He smiled reassuringly.

"Of course I care, and so do lots of other people. I mean, we're all stuck in this tin can together. We might as well be a team."

Lennier chuckled. "Don't let Captain Sheridan hear you call it a 'tin can'. He might take offense." But his eyes shone with gratitude.

Vir nodded toward the copy of _The Three Musketeers_ that was still spread open across Lennier's lap. "How's the book?"

"It's very exciting!" exclaimed Lennier. "There's adventure and friendship and things about religion and history. I am very much enjoying it. I must thank you again for it – it is making my time in bed far more bearable."

"You're welcome, although as I said before, Commander Ivanova deserves credit for the recommendation."

"Did someone say my name?" As if on cue, the Commander poked her head through the open door, startling both of the room's occupants.

"Hi, Commander!" exclaimed Vir cheerfully.

Lennier triangled his hands and bowed as best he could from his place in the bed. "Commander Ivanova, what nice surprise. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually, now that you mention it…" Ivanova stepped fully into the room, and they could see that in her arms she bore a very large tray of chocolate chip cookies. Franklin followed her in, nibbling happily on a cookie of his own.

Vir's eyes widened. "That is a _lot_ of chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah," Ivanova acknowledged. "I had a rare afternoon off, so I decided to bake. And when I bake, I _bake_."

"No kidding," said Vir weakly. The tantalizing smell wafting from the tray was beginning to severely compromise him.

The commander continued. "Of course, once I'd finished my massive baking endeavor, I found myself with a problem. I have _all_ these cookies and no one to share them with. So I, being the good and nice and kind person that I am, decided to distribute them around the station. I am the Santa Claus of baked goods, and today everyone loves me! I should do this more often."

"Yes, you should," agreed Vir. His mouth was watering so much by this time that he had to swallow.

"Oh, stop toying with him," chuckled Franklin, taking another bite. His eyes danced with amusement.

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm cutting you off. No more cookies for you, ever." Franklin threw up his hands in surrender. Ivanova rolled her eyes, but then turned back to Vir and laughed as she held out the tray. "Would you like a cookie, Vir?"

"Yes, please!" Vir chose a particularly chip-filled treat from the platter and immediately bit into it. "Mmmmmmm. This is delicious. Thank you, Commander."

Ivanova chuckled. "You're welcome, Vir." She then turned and offered the tray to Lennier. "Would you like one, Lennier?"

Lennier looked over at Franklin, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"Doctor, may I?" His voice was so plaintive and his expression so pleading that had Vir been the doctor, he would have found the request impossible to deny, even if Lennier's life had depended upon him _not_ eating a cookie.

"I don't think just one will hurt you." Franklin winked, shoved the last of his cookie into his mouth, and then headed back to work. Lennier delicately selected his own cookie and then sniffed at it experimentally.

Ivanova raised an eyebrow. "You _eat_ it, Lennier."

"Yes, of course," said Lennier hesitantly. "It is only…I have never before eaten a…what did you say they were called? A chocolate chip cookie."

Ivanova's eyes widened in disbelief. "You've _never_ had a chocolate chip cookie? Ever? In your whole life?"

"We do not have them on our world, and while I have tried many foods from other cultures during my time on Babylon 5, this one appears to have slipped under my radar. Although I must say, it smells wonderful." He took what seemed to Vir to be an infuriatingly small bite, and suddenly his eyes went wide and bright.

"This tastes amazing!" He quickly took another bite and chewed it with his eyes closed, looking positively blissful.

Ivanova stared at him, looking absolutely flabbergasted. "I cannot believe you have never had a chocolate chip cookie before. That _my_ cookie is the first you have ever eaten."

"I am assuming these little spots are the chocolate chips?" Lennier asked, pointing.

Ivanova stopped dead. "Lennier."

"Yes Commander?" The young Minbari looked a bit concerned at the seriousness in her voice.

Ivanova spoke very slowly. "Lennier, _please_ don't tell me you have _never_ had _chocolate_."

Lennier shook his head innocently. "No, this is all a new experience for me. But it is a good one. Thank you very, very much, Commander. Although I know that the healthy meals the doctor has been prescribing are important to my recovery, this is a vast improvement over Medlab food."

"Wow. I just…wow." Ivanova turned to Vir. "He's never had chocolate. How has he never had chocolate?"

Vir just shrugged, wishing she would offer him another cookie.

Ivanova blinked a couple of times and then shook her head vigorously. "Okay. I'm good. I'm over it. How're you doing, Lennier?"

"Much better than I was. Thank you for asking," replied Lennier with his characteristic politeness and giving a little bow. "Vir told me you recommended _The Three Musketeers_ for me to read, and I must commend you on and thank you for that recommendation. I am very much enjoying it."

"Good, good. I like it a lot, too." She paused for a moment and then chuckled softly. "You know Lennier, you remind me a little bit of Aramis."

Lennier smiled softly. "I will not deny that I have drawn that parallel just a bit myself. Aramis seems an upstanding individual, brave and honorable and a good friend. There are characters I would less like to be compared to."

"Yeah. You're right. Anyway, I have many more cookies left, and therefore the opportunity to make many more people love me. I'm glad you're doing better, Lennier." Ivanova turned toward the door, and Vir's heart sank at the vanishing prospect of another cookie. But his hopes were immediately restored when she turned back around.

"Lennier?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Do you know if Delenn has ever eaten chocolate before?"

Lennier looked thoughtful. "I am not sure. I have never seen her eat it, nor heard her mention it."

"Oh wow. Okay. Um, here's a tip. You want to make Delenn happy?"

Lennier blinked curiously. "Yes, of course."

Ivanova grinned. "Trust me. Hand her some of this stuff, and you'll be her favorite person."

Lennier opened and closed his mouth in surprise and confusion as Ivanova walked out. Then he turned to Vir, looking incredulous.

"I cannot believe I have never heard of this seemingly magical substance before."

Vir furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Do you think it would work with Londo?"

Lennier continued to progress in his recovery with the support of his friends. Doctor Franklin told him it would be beneficial for him to start taking very short walks, just up and down the hallway in Medlab. The first time he had tried to stand, he had been much too overzealous. Luckily, both Delenn and Doctor Franklin had been supporting him, so they lowered him gently back onto the bed when dizziness overwhelmed him. Once the room had stopped spinning, he tried again, more slowly this time; to his delight he was able to remain standing this time, though he had needed to lean heavily on the doctor and Delenn. (He had not wanted to use Delenn for support at first, but she had reassured him that she still had enough of her Minbari strength that he could not hurt her. And who was he to argue with her?) With their help, Lennier had managed to make it a whole twenty feet before he suddenly began to feel quite weary. By the time they made it back to his room, it was all he could do to collapse on the bed, humiliated by how weak he was. Franklin, however, brought his spirits up by saying that tiring so easily was perfectly normal when one had been as seriously ill as Lennier had been, and that Lennier had actually done very well. But it was Delenn's happy smile that had made the exhaustion truly worth it.

However, aside from his daily turns about the hallway, Lennier remained confined strictly to bed. It was not an ideal situation, and he continued to lament having to remain away from his work and his service to Delenn for so long. But his friends made his bed rest far more bearable, a fact for which he was grateful. Mr. Garibaldi had popped his balding head in once to say hello, and Vir came to visit at least every couple of days. Once Lennier had finished _The Three Musketeers_ , Vir loaned him Londo's copy of _The Great Centauri Republic: A Magnificent History_. Lennier had been excited to read the large tome, which provided a combination of history and other cultures, two things in which he was very interested. However, he had his concerns about the source of the book.

"Vir, did you ask Londo if I could borrow this?"

Vir shrugged. "No. He won't miss it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he won't even realize it's gone. Londo isn't exactly the reading type. He owns that book for show. I doubt he's ever even opened it."

"So I take it your histories are more commonly passed down verbally?"

"Have you ever known a Centauri to _not_ talk?"

He had a point.

Delenn, although she had needed to resume her ambassadorial duties, came to visit him every morning and evening without fail, and more often if she could make it. She would tell him of her day and ask about what he was reading, and they would just sit and _talk_ , like close friends should. No matter how lonely Lennier got when Delenn was not there, his anticipation of the next time he would see her carried him through and gave him strength. They finally had the closeness he had always desired, and Lennier knew that he would go to the brink of death a million times if he had to, if only it meant he and Delenn could be that close forever. But because of what Dukhat had told him, he knew he would not have to. However, Lennier still had difficulty wrapping his brain around the concept of he and Delenn being equals – he still considered Delenn to be his superior, and he still did not wish to trouble her with the problems and worries of his life because she had so many other concerns. But he reveled in her presence and the comfort she gave him. From her, he drew the strength he needed to recover.

After over three weeks in Medlab, once Lennier had finished his course of intravenous antibiotics and was strong enough to walk to and from the bathroom on his own, the doctor _finally_ discharged him from the hospital and allowed him to return to his quarters to finish convalescing. He was still required to come to Medlab every day – a nurse would come fetch him in a wheelchair – to receive an intramuscular injection of _Pseudocyanin ubique_ antibodies and have the antibody levels in his blood tested, as well as allow the doctor to examine him and monitor his recovery. While Lennier was not particularly thrilled with the idea of being wheeled about the halls of Babylon 5 on a daily basis, he was more than willing to make this compromise if it meant he could return to his quarters where it was quiet and there was not the bustle of daily Medlab life. And he was so very ready to sleep in his own bed – his blessedly comfortable bed, wonderfully firm and at a perfect forty-five degree angle. He had missed it very much.

Delenn accompanied him when he was moved to his quarters to help him settle in. He attempted to go to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for himself and to offer her one as well – now that he was back in his own quarters, he could at least begin to offer Delenn the hospitality she deserved. But he had barely made it through the door when Delenn caught on to his plan.

"Do not think you are going anywhere but straight to bed, Lennier," she said with simultaneous sternness and affection. "Do not forget, the doctor said you are still on strict bed rest for at least the next ten days. I will help you with whatever you need while I am here, and Vir has offered to look in on you regularly as well. All you need to concentrate on is resting and getting well." She laid a hand on his back and steered him toward his bed as she spoke.

"But Delenn, I am supposed to be the one serving _you_." It was a feeble protest – he knew it was useless. He was still very weak, so there was little he could physically do, and they both knew it. But it felt so _wrong_.

"I know it feels strange to you," said Delenn kindly, helping him into bed and pulling the blankets up around him. "But you are my friend and you are ill and I am here to help. I _want_ to help."

Lennier looked up at her from where he lay. He might have relinquished his romantic feelings for her at the river in his vision, but he could still not help but think how _perfect_ she was in every way. Her heart was so bright and beautiful that it made everything around her, including himself, seem dim in comparison.

"I don't deserve you, Delenn," he whispered, lowering his eyes instinctively.

"No, no. None of that," she reprimanded gently, taking his chin into her hand and gently angling his head up so he _had_ to look into her eyes. "You have the sweetest, most gentle soul of anyone I have ever met, Lennier. You are absolutely deserving of every single moment of care I have given you, and so much more. I wish you would see that."

"Forgive me," Lennier murmured, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I am, as the humans would say, a creature of habit. I value our friendship more dearly than anything else in the universe, Delenn. But I am afraid it may take me some time to become accustomed to being, as you say, your equal. In temple, had I even thought such a thing…"

"I understand," said Delenn with a warm smile. "We are both products of a lifetime's exposure to a single system. But as fond as I am of my years of training, I am glad we have been able to see what more this grand universe has to offer, including each other." She pulled a chair from the table in the kitchen up next to the bed and sat in it. "Anyway, soon you will be well again, and then you can serve me to your heart's content. But for now, it is still my turn to look after you."

In a rather uncharacteristic display of impulsiveness, Lennier reached out and took Delenn's hand. "Thank you." He hoped his voice expressed just how much he meant those words.

Delenn squeezed his hand in return, and her smile told him that she understood perfectly.

"You are so very welcome, my dearest of friends." She sighed then. "At the very least, it keeps me from worrying about you so much if I am kept busy and in a place where I can keep an eye on you."

Lennier's heart sank at the thought that he was, by nature of his illness, still causing her pain. "But Delenn," he protested, trying to sound encouraging, "I am feeling much better. Doctor Franklin would not have let me out of Medlab if I wasn't."

"I know," she reassured him quickly. "And I am so pleased with your progress. But the thing that troubles me now is that we still do not know _why_ you became so terribly ill. The doctor told me multiple times while he was trying to figure out a way to treat you that there must be some underlying problem that caused you to become so sick from something that does not even bother anyone else – something that stops your body from making those antibodies. And while Valen only knows how happy and relieved I am to have you healing, there is always a little piece of my mind that worries that I will have to see you go through this all again soon. I try to push such thoughts out of my head, because I cannot bear them. But sometimes they slip through."

She pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms over her chest as though she were protecting herself. Lennier came so _close_ to telling her what Doctor Franklin had told him several days ago, on his first day in the room in the general ward. But once again, he stopped himself. Delenn was already upset, and it was mere speculation at this point. There was no purpose in worrying her even further until he knew for sure.

So instead, Lennier did the only thing for her that he had been capable of recently – he tried to comfort her.

"Do not worry, Delenn. The doctor says that the antibody injections he has been giving me are working – the levels of the antibody in my blood are much higher than they were, and they are still improving. So I will be fine." He hoped he sounded more certain than he felt.

"With the strength you are showing, I believe my faith in you to be fully justified," said Delenn affectionately. "But I am afraid that before I intercepted you, you were on your way to the kitchen. Did you want some water?"

Lennier allowed himself just the smallest resigned sigh. If Delenn heard it, she did not acknowledge it.

"Yes, please."


	15. HoldBackTheRiver LetMe Look in Your Eyes

Recovering from sepsis turned out to be the most tedious, time-consuming, and _boring_ task Lennier had ever undertaken. It turned out that recovering enough to be released from Medlab was merely the first part of the lengthy challenge. Nearly a month passed with Lennier confined to his quarters. For the first few days, that was all right – he still tired very easily, and he slept most of the day. But he seemed to grow just a little bit stronger every day; while this delighted himself and his friends, particularly Delenn, the fact that he was able to stay awake for longer periods of time meant that Lennier was unthinkably bored. He was so accustomed to exercising his active mind day in and day out, as both his studies back in temple and his work with Delenn required almost constant critical thinking. Having to spend so long away from his work left Lennier terribly desperate to be able to _do_ something. He read book after book, solved an entire book of Earth puzzles called "Sudoku" that was given to him by Mr. Garibaldi, and even began teaching himself the Centauri language, which ought to impress Vir. But although he technically had no shortage of things to occupy his mind and time, they were not the same as doing his work, serving Delenn by her side and tackling the problems of the universe together. Lennier was beyond ready to resume his life, and with it, the calling of his heart.

Having his friends there helped, though. Vir still came often, and they talked and played cards (something at which Lennier had gotten considerably better since his 'learning experience' with Londo in the Dark Star). Vir and Delenn took turns bringing Lennier food, which was a blessing since even several weeks after the beginning of his recovery, he did not feel as though he even had remotely close to the energy needed to cook for himself. Thanks to Delenn, however, he found himself practically drowning in split Chudomo seed soup. It was a good thing he liked split Chudomo seed soup. And Delenn also inundated him with tea every time she came over to make sure he stayed both hydrated and as comfortable as he could be. And while he was happily sipping at the lovely warm concoction, she would ever so gently ask if he had taken all of his medications that day. It seemed to Lennier as though she was worried about seeming as though she did not trust him to take care of himself. But he would never think that of her – it meant the universe to him that she cared so much.

But as the days turned into weeks, Lennier made measurable progress, although it seemed to happen abysmally slowly. But it was progress all the same, and eventually he was able to better care for himself. After a time he found that he had the strength to stand for longer periods of time, and soon he was able to cook some of his own meals. And with the doctor's permission, in time, Lennier began to take walks up and down the halls of the station. As instructed by Franklin, he allowed himself only a few minutes at first, but as his strength returned the walks lengthened and his spirits increased at his progress.

"You look happy," Delenn noted one day as they sat together on Lennier's couch drinking tea. She had been shopping for fresh produce in the Zocalo and managed to find some _Valeria_ fruit, a rare treat on Babylon 5 because it spoiled so quickly that it was difficult to ship all the way from Minbar to the station. It was grown in the gardens, but somehow it just did not quite taste the same as the round, red, juicy fruit from the homeworld. It was one of Lennier's favorites – he liked to pan-fry it with a clove of minced _jenn_ and just a bit of salt and pepper. Delenn had looked so excited when she gave an entire bag full to him. He had not realized that she knew he liked it so much – it turned out that the both of them paid more attention to details about the other than they realized.

"I am happy," he affirmed, smiling into his cup of tea. "Doctor Franklin is requiring me to come to Medlab only every few days now, and after he examined me yesterday he said I can might be able to go back to work in as little as two weeks if all continues to go well."

Delenn's gray eyes danced with joy. "Oh, Lennier! That is wonderful news! It will be so good to have you back; I have missed you very much. Writing reports and preparing for meetings just is not the same without you working next to me at the table."

"I've missed you, too." He held himself back from throwing his full conviction behind those words– just a fraction was enough to get the point across. "And I am so ready to go back to work. I believe I am going, to use a phrase I have heard Commander Ivanova say, stir crazy."

Delenn lifted an eyebrow. "Stir crazy? I do not believe I have heard that saying before. What does stirring have anything to do with it? No one is forcing you to cook."

"No, I do that of my own accord," he said with a laugh. "Humans have strange turns of phrase. I am but a simple linguist – all I can do is remember them and attempt to use them in applicable situations."

Lennier thought for what was perhaps the millionth time just how much he loved that when Delenn laughed, she seemed to do so with every fiber of her being.

"Well, they do not make it easy. But I really _have_ missed you, especially these past few days. With all of these meetings, I feel as though I have barely been able to come and visit you. I am sorry for that."

He had missed her too, and terribly. But he did not want to reiterate this point – it would only serve to make Delenn feel worse. So Lennier tried the opposite approach.

"Would you like to have dinner in my quarters tonight? I am afraid I cannot make a full meal for entertaining as I would like and as you deserve, but I can fry the _Valeria_ fruit."

Delenn closed her eyes for a moment and sighed blissfully. "My mouth is watering already. But Lennier, are you certain you are feeling well enough for this?"

"I shall be fine," Lennier reassured her. "This is just what I need, I think."

"Very well," said Delenn happily. "In that case, I shall stop by the baker's stand and get us a fresh loaf of bread to go with our _Valeria_ fruit. We shall have a very fine meal indeed."

If was, in fact, far from the fine meal Delenn deserved, but Lennier knew perfectly well that she was referring to the company rather than the food. He was about to agree with her when the beeping of his BabCom unit interrupted him. The notification voice stated in its robotic tone, " _incoming call from Doctor Stephen Franklin"._

Furrowing his brow, Lennier placed his nearly empty teacup on the little table next to the couch, stood, and walked over to stand in front of the screen. Looking concerned, Delenn followed him.

"Receive."

Franklin's face appeared on the screen. He looked a bit surprised to see Delenn.

"Hey, Lennier, Delenn." He seemed a little distracted to Lennier, almost troubled. "Lennier, can you come to Medlab? There's…something I need to discuss with you."

 _Oh._ Lennier's stomach fluttered inside his abdomen as he realized what this must be about. It had been several weeks now, which was how long Franklin had said it would take. It was funny – as troubling as the idea had been, Lennier had _almost_ forgotten about it. The company of his friends had kept him distracted, but now his worries came rushing back in an almost unbearable wave. But he needed to remain strong and stoic, for Delenn's sake. She did not yet know anything of this matter, and he intended to keep it exactly that way until he was _sure_.

"Yes, of course. I will come now."

"Thank you. Should I send a nurse with a chair?"

Lennier shook his head. "No, but thank you. I will walk. It is not far, and I am feeling up to it." He needed time to think, to prepare. Franklin had tried not to give anything away because of Delenn's presence, but it would take a lot more careful concealing of expressions to fool Lennier. He already knew exactly what the doctor was going to say to him.

"Okay, see you in a few minutes, then." Franklin terminated the transmission, and Lennier prepared himself to turn around and face Delenn without her knowing that his insides felt like they were crumbling into dust.

"Lennier?" He could picture her face even without seeing it, drawn in apprehensiveness, gray eyes filled with concern. He drew a breath – not as deep as he would have liked, for he did not wish her to see that he needed to gather his strength – and turned around.

"I suppose I ought to get going. I am sorry our time together was cut short. I look forward to our dinner tonight." He tried to force his smile to meet his eyes, because he knew that was where Delenn would look to know the true state of his heart – his eyes. And he was right. She laid her hand on his cheek and passed it over his skin until she gently cupped his chin, holding his head so that he _had_ to look into her eyes. She, too, clearly sensed that something was wrong from Franklin's manner. Lennier wondered if she already knew how scared he was, without him even having to tell her. He tried to think brave thoughts, to show the strength Delenn was convinced he had, but he could not turn his mind away from the looming conversation with Franklin. Delenn studied him for several seconds, the concern in her eyes not abating. Finally, she asked quietly,

"Lennier, is everything all right?"

She did not ask _what_ was wrong. She wanted to help, but she was giving him the opportunity to get out of telling her, because she sensed he might need it. And oh, how he _wanted_ to tell her everything right then and there, uncertainty be damned. But it was not time yet – worry though she may, it was better to spare her this as long as possible. And so he laid his hand on hers and gently lowered it away from his face, and then interlaced his fingers with hers, and symbol of deep affection and reassurance.

"It is." He forced his visage not to falter even as he lied to her. Lennier had lied before on several occasions, probably more than any other Minbari he knew. But lying to Delenn was something else entirely, even though he did it to protect her. He still felt as though someone was strangling his heart, starving it of oxygen like a rope around a throat.

She held his eyes for one more long moment, and then disengaged her fingers from his.

"All right," she all but whispered, and he knew that she knew.

 _I'm sorry, Delenn._

"I will see you tonight. Is eighteen hundred hours all right for you?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and swallowed and nodded.

"…Yes. I…I believe it should be."

"Excellent. Until then." He triangled his hands and bowed, something he had not done since the beginning of his recovery and the shift in the nature of his and Delenn's friendship. He saw pain leap like flames in Delenn's eyes at the reversion the gesture represented. Forcing himself to ignore it and the clawing he felt at the inside of his stomach at the sight of it, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Delenn standing alone in his quarters.

At exactly eighteen hundred hours, Lennier's door chime sounded. Drawing a shaky breath, he stood, removed Delenn's shawl from around his shoulders, folded it lovingly, and placed it on the table by the couch. Delenn had not rung the chime in weeks – she always just came in to avoid waking him should he be resting. It felt very formal, and now that Lennier had had a taste of their deeper friendship, he found that he did not want to return to formal. Especially now, when maintaining even a semblance of normality was a struggle and his life felt so fragile, as though everything he knew and loved would shatter if he breathed too hard.

"Come in," he said softly, starting toward the door. It swung open and Delenn entered, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting into the room with her. To Lennier's mild surprise, she smiled genuinely when she saw him. The smile was muted, and her eyes still held worry, but she was clearly glad to see him. Lennier smiled briefly back at her before moving the course of the evening forward. Part of him wanted to get dinner over with as soon as possible so that he could get everything out in the open. But another part of him, a more prominent part, was petrified, too scared to even begin to unpack the tightly wound ball of agony that had settled in his heart. But worse still was the knowledge that he was going to break her heart, and that he would not be there to comfort her through it. She would be all right, though, in the end – she had Sheridan. But Lennier had no one, and every time he thought of how alone he was going to be very soon, it very nearly left him breathless with anguish.

"That bread smells amazing!" he said, politely reaching out for the loaf in her arms. She handed it to him, and although he avoided her eyes, he could only imagine the sadness that resided in their depths.

"I bought it just now from a Brakiri baker in the Zocalo. It is freshly baked and still warm. I must confess I have never tried Brakiri bread before – I wonder if it will be very different from what we are accustomed to."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful," said Lennier softly as he placed the bread on the counter. The words felt hollow and false; how could anything in his life ever be wonderful again?

And that was when Lennier made the mistake of meeting Delenn's gaze. All it took was a single moment of looking into her eyes, and he could feel his resolve beginning to crumble. It was as though she could see every inch of his pain. He tried to pull his eyes down, but he was too late.

"Lennier." She reached for his hand, and he knew he should pull away. It was better to start gaining distance now, rather than prolonging both their suffering. But he found he had no power against the love in her eyes, and he allowed her hand to close around his. He cursed the way his body betrayed him when he felt himself begin to tremble.

"Please tell me what is the matter, Lennier. I cannot bear to see you in such pain."

 _And that is precisely the problem._ No – he should not think about it until he absolutely had to. But the thoughts he had been holding at bay came flooding back too quickly to stop them. The news he had received that day, world-shattering though it was, paled in comparison to what it meant for the future.

Lennier felt Delenn wrap her arm around his back and lead him gently toward the couch; he found that he did not have the emotional strength to resist. She lowered him onto the seat and then positioned herself next to him, angling her body so that she almost faced him. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, the now-familiar gesture that had once brought him such comfort now tearing at his heart because he knew it might be the last time he would ever feel it. She watched him with patience and worry and _love_ \- he felt comfortable calling it that now, finally. What bitter irony. But keeping her waiting any longer would be cruel, he realized, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"I…I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to tell you this." He barely managed a whisper, and he had to focus his thoughts into putting more substance behind his voice as he continued to speak. "As you know, after he discovered the antibody deficiency that caused my illness, Doctor Franklin has been working tirelessly to determine why my body was not producing antibodies to the bacteria _Pseudocyanin ubique_. He held out hope that it might have been some aberration that caused a temporary failure in antibody production – a viral infection his scans did not detect, or some other insult that would have compromised my immune system's ability to function correctly."

Delenn sat forward. "He has found something?"

"Actually, he found something quite some time ago – on the day I was moved to the general ward of Medlab, actually." Lennier drew a shaky breath, the memory of the moment earlier that day in which he knew for sure still fresh and devastating in his mind.

"Doctor Franklin followed lead after lead, only to reach a dead end every time. But finally, after calls to several doctors on Minbar, one of them found something about my case to be vaguely familiar and put him in touch with a very prominent geneticist in Tuzenor. Apparently…" Lennier swallowed hard, willing himself to find the strength to keep telling his story. "Apparently there exists a genetic condition in Minbari in which the affected individual completely stops producing antibodies to _Pseudocyanin ubique_. It is exceedingly rare – the inheritance pattern is quite complex, and it has only been documented in a handful of families over the years."

Delenn's voice sounded as though her throat had gone dry.

"Is one of those families the Third Fane of Chudomo?"

Lennier nodded, willing his hands to stop trembling for the hundredth time.

"Doctor Franklin sent a sample of my DNA to Minbar to be tested. He got the result back today. It was positive."

"Oh, Lennier..." Delenn's hand was also shaking now. "That was why you looked so troubled when I came into your room in the general ward for the first time. That was when the doctor told you what might be wrong."

"I wanted to tell you then and there," said Lennier hoarsely. "But you were _so_ upset that day, and I knew that this would only make it worse. So then I decided it would be better to wait until I knew for sure – there was no point in worrying you when it might not turn out to be true at all. But it has."

"But I do not understand." Delenn furrowed her brow. "If this disease has always been present in your genetic code, why is it only manifesting now? Surely you have been exposed to this bacteria in the past – Doctor Franklin says we all have."

"The condition generally manifests around young adulthood, and the onset tends to be triggered by some overwhelming exposure to the bacteria, generally as the result of a large open wound or infiltration of the skin."

"The burns from the explosion," Delenn whispered, and Lennier nodded in affirmation.

"A genetic condition…" murmured Delenn after a pause. "There are not usually cures for those."

"And this one is no different." Lennier sighed shakily, and Delenn squeezed his hand so hard that it nearly went numb, as though she were trying to convey enough comfort for the both of them.

"Please do not worry about me, Delenn," he implored. "While it is true that I will have this condition forever, Doctor Franklin says it can be managed. I will need to have injections of the antibody twice a week for the rest of my life, as well as have the levels of antibody in my bloodstream tested regularly. And if I have any injuries that draw blood, or get ill in any way, or experience anything that might compromise my immune system, I am to take extra doses of the antibodies to ensure I have enough to fight off an infection." He tried to sound hopeful and encouraging, but he had a feeling he was failing miserably.

"But if you miss an injection, or your antibody levels are low from fighting off an exposure you did not realize you had, or you are caught away from home and medical care and something happens? What then?" Lennier expected Delenn already knew the answer to her own question, and that her mind was dealing with this onslaught of difficult news by thinking of all the possible things that could go even more wrong.

"Then the infection will spread to my bloodstream, and I will become septic again," he replied softly. He stared down at the floor, not thinking himself strong enough to bear seeing the pain in her eyes. But when Delenn uttered a soft sob of "Oh, Lennier," and threw her arms around him, against his better judgment he allowed himself to rest his cheek in the crook of her neck for just a moment. For they both needed to gather strength for what was coming next.

After several seconds, Delenn sat back on the couch and took a shaky breath.

"It will be all right. We will keep a very close eye on your health, and take special precautions to keep you safe in your work. I will consult with Doctor Franklin; I am sure he has some suggestions…"

"Delenn." Lennier's voice was barely a whisper – it was all he could manage. But it was enough for her to hear him, and at the grave tone of his voice she stopped mid-sentence and allowed him to continue. Lennier inhaled shakily.

"Delenn, Doctor Franklin has made a professional recommendation that I resign my position and return to Minbar."

"What?" Lennier had to steel himself against the pain in her eyes and her whisper that sent searing sparks through his heart. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain his composure.

"He says it is too dangerous here. Babylon 5 has so often been the site of violence and battles as of late, and with the looming threat of the war with the Shadows, the chance of injury, major or minor, has become even greater."

"He has a point," Delenn admitted softly. "But Doctor Franklin cannot force you to return to Minbar; he can only recommend it. The choice is yours, and it is not one to be rushed."

"I'm going back." Lennier could scarcely breathe past the tightening in his chest and throat, and now that he had finally said it, he found that he could not hold back the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He should have been mortified to display such open emotion in Delenn's presence, but he could feel nothing but pain. The grief on Delenn's face at his words made it all the worse.

"Of…of course," she whispered, sounding a bit surprised but understanding, but with sadness permeating her every word. "You must look after your health first, Lennier."

"It isn't that." He had not wanted to say it, to say _this._ But he had gone too far to turn back. Tears now flowed freely down his cheeks, and at the sight of them Delenn resumed her knuckle-stroking. "Delenn, I…" He shut his eyes and winced as his breath shuddered within his chest. "I saw what my illness did to you, the pain it caused you, and I cannot put you through that again. No matter what it might cost me, I will not, I _cannot_ hurt you again. Not like that." His tears were flowing faster now, and his sobs becoming closer together as the reality of it began to overwhelm him. He was leaving. After everything, _everything_ they had been through together and finally reaching a beautiful point in their friendship, he would be leaving Delenn forever. And if things went as planned, he would never see her or talk to her ever again – if he was to avoid hurting her again, she needed to forget all about him. Let her concentrate on Sheridan – they would form their happy life together, have children, grow old together. She needn't ever think about Lennier. It was for the best. It really was. But it hurt _so_ much.

As Lennier wept, he felt Delenn move closer to him on the couch so that their bodies were touching. Slowly, gently, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close so that his head rested against her chest. He should not have allowed that – he was supposed to be distancing himself from her – but he found that he did not have the resolve to resist her. He felt as weak and powerless as he had when he was in the ICU. So Lennier surrendered himself to Delenn's ministrations, his tears soaking her dress as she stroked his headbone.

"Lennier," she murmured, and he wanted to remember just how she said his name forever and ever.

"Lennier, listen to me." Reluctantly, he sat up, his heart crying out to stay close to her. But she took both of his hands in her own, and that mitigated the pain somewhat. "I know you want to protect me – you would not be the Lennier I know and love if you did not. And if concern for your health is weighing at all into this decision, then I think you should absolutely return to Minbar." Lennier sniffled and she pressed his hand, seemingly on instinct. "But Lennier, if you are basing this decision solely on me, which I suspect you are, I ask you to please reconsider. This is _your_ life we are talking about, Lennier. You must ultimately follow the calling of your own heart. Do you _want_ to stay on Babylon 5?"

"Yes!" Lennier sobbed. "Oh Delenn, I've never wanted anything more in my whole life than to stay here with you."

"Then I ask of you, as a very dear friend, not to let anything – not even me – get in the way of you following the calling of your heart. I want you to be happy just as much as you want me to be happy."

She was right. How could he have been so foolish to think that she would just forget about him? As small and insignificant as he might feel sometimes, it had become clear in the past few weeks just how committed Delenn was to their friendship. He would hurt her either way – there was no escaping it. But he could _be there_ for her as she hurt. Lennier met her gaze with watery eyes and felt the very last bit of his resolve crumble away, and he fell into her embrace.

"Then I will stay. Oh Delenn, I will stay here with you forever and ever and ever."

"I would expect nothing less of you," she said, and he heard more than saw her smile.

Lennier stayed nestled in Delenn's arms for the longest time. He found, a bit to his horror, that now that his tears had started flowing, he could not stop them. Delenn patiently let him cry, resting her cheek against his head and holding his hand.

"I…I'm sorry," he managed to choke out after awhile. "I should not be this upset anymore, I do not…I do not know why I cannot seem to regain control of my emotions…" Another sob caught in his throat, and Delenn rested her hand tenderly on his cheek.

"Oh my sweet Lennier," she murmured. "You have been through so much, and you have tried to be strong for far too long. And you have had one of the hardest days of your entire life; not to mention needing to learn to live with this terrible news. You cry all you need to, my dear. I will be right here with you."

"Thank you, Delenn. I do not know what I would do without you," Lennier whispered tremulously.

"Stay here by my side forever, and you need never find out," she murmured affectionately.

Dukhat's words came suddenly back to Lennier, then.

" _You will share a bond stronger than friendship, and you will be ever by her side, just as I know your heart desires. You are no longer a lowly priest, my young friend, or even only a diplomatic aide – you have a part to play in many great events to come. The galaxy is poised on the edge of enormous changes, and both you and Delenn have indispensible roles in those changes. But each of you works best at the other's side – two minds will become one, and two hearts will overlap and overflow. You will care for each other, comfort each other, and support each other. You will laugh together, cry together, and dream together. And together, you will change the universe. Wonderful though it may sound, it will not be easy – the road will be long and dark and incredibly painful… But your devotion to her is strong – I have faith that you will fulfill your role as her guide successfully despite the tribulations, and I have no doubt that your love for her will never waver."_

Lennier had been so caught up in his need to protect Delenn even at great cost to himself that he had completely forgotten the great religious leader's prophecy. Delenn and Lennier were meant to be together. She would change the world, and he was to be her guide and her companion. It would not be an easy road – with the events of that day, Lennier now understood why. But as long as he and Delenn were there for each other, they would be all right.

A mixture of grief and relief and sheer emotional exhaustion kept Lennier crying for longer than he ever had before. But Delenn stayed with him, conveying all the strength and love he needed to make it through. Finally, both of them fell asleep, with Delenn leaning back against the arm of the couch and Lennier with his head nestled in her lap. And there they stayed until the morning, and despite the circumstances, both slept more peacefully than they had in a very long time.


	16. Step By Tiny Step

It had been a long two months. A _very_ long two months.

It had not been easy, but Marcus had succeeded in his mission. The constant stress of the need to remain undercover had left him utterly spent. When the freighter picked him up, he sank down onto the same dirty mattress and slept nearly nonstop for the entire four-day journey back to Minbar.

The moment he disembarked at the Rangers' training center, he was met by a courier bearing a data crystal, the same young Minbari who had brought him the news of Lennier's impending death. Even though the poor messenger had done nothing wrong, Marcus could not help but feel the slightest bit of contempt when he saw him.

"Ranger Cole," he said, triangling his hands and bowing low. "This message came the day after you departed. I am sorry we were unable to get it to you, but doing so would have compromised the integrity of your mission. I…I do hope there is nothing in it that was time-sensitive."

"Who is it from?" asked Marcus, unease growing in his heart.

"Ambassador Delenn."

Marcus's stomach turned over. He dismissed the little courier and clutched the data crystal tightly in his hand. He knew what was very likely in Delenn's message. He had spent the last two months slowly beginning to accept it, but despite that his grief still felt fresh. He almost stowed the data crystal, but he had recently seen the value of closure, and it stayed his hand. Maybe, just maybe, it would help the pain that had long since settled in his heart.

He made his way to his little room in the barracks, threw his rucksack on the floor, and inserted the crystal into the port on the screen. Delenn's face appeared. She looked almost incomprehensibly weary, but her eyes were bright. Confused by this, Marcus turned his attention to the content of the message.

" _Marcus, I tried to call you in person, but you were unavailable. I hope that does not mean you have left on your mission already."_ Her face broke into a smile and her eyes brightened. _"Marcus, Lennier is alive and recovering. He is very weak and he has a long road ahead of him, but Doctor Franklin is confident he will be wholly restored to us. Our dear doctor is, as I have heard Londo describe him, a 'veritable wizard'. Anyhow, Marcus, I hope that you take heart in this news to see you through your mission. I wish you safety and success, and I look forward with great anticipation to your return. May the blessings of Valen be upon you, my friend."_

The message ended and Delenn's face vanished. Marcus sank against the angled bed for support, his mind moving at a million miles per minute.

 _Lennier was alive? But how? Stephen made it sound as though there was no hope._ Marcus tried to cast aside the analytics that automatically came to his mind. His friend was alive and recovering, and that was all that really mattered. He was happy – he truly was, beyond measure. But after having grieved for two months, the sudden news that it had all been in vain shook him at the foundation a bit.

"Not in vain," he said aloud, his voice echoing off of the crystalline walls. As painful as the last two months had been due to the apparent loss of his friend, at the end of them, Marcus felt more comfortable with himself than he ever had. His guilt and insecurities had been vastly reconciled, and for the first time in longer than he could remember Marcus felt free to live his life without the chains of the past binding him and holding him back. It had all been because of Lennier. And now, he would get to tell him that.

Marcus's gaze happened to land on the little prayer area in the corner. Someone had come through and cleaned it up, replacing the broken implements and restoring it so that there was no evidence of his outburst two months prior. Deep in thought, Marcus walked over to it and sat down on the floor, the now-familiar cold seeping in through his clothing. He lit one of the candles and stared into the small, ever-changing flame, remembering his pain and desperation the last time he had sat there. He had not been sure he believed then, and he still was not. But if he was keeping score, he supposed whatever had restored his friend to him was a point in favor of the existence of some deity. But he would keep that particular detail out of his conversation with Lennier.

After his debriefing with Ranger One, Marcus boarded the little flyer he had flown from Babylon 5 to Minbar and set off for the station. As soon as he had cleared the planet's atmosphere and set a course, he called Delenn on a subspace channel. After several seconds, she answered.

"Marcus!" Her face lit up with delight at the sight of him. "Oh, it is wonderful to see your face. I do hope your mission was a success and you are coming back to us."

"I am on my way as we speak," he replied. "And I will tell you all about the mission once I return to the Babylon 5 – I have learned it is best not to speak of covert things over a channel when they can wait to be said in person. But Delenn, other than to tell you of my return, the reason I wanted to speak with you is the transmission I received from you when I returned to Minbar earlier today."

Delenn furrowed her brow. "But I did not send you a transmission today. I knew your mission was covert, so I have not sent you any transmissions since…" She trailed off, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh, _Marcus._ Tell me you did not only just get that message _today_."

Marcus swallowed hard. "I am afraid I did."

"And the one just prior to it, from Doctor Franklin?"

"Two months ago, just before I left Minbar."

"Oh, Marcus," Delenn whispered, biting her bottom lip. "I do not know what to say…"

"How is he?" Marcus interrupted her. What Marcus had been through the past two months did not matter, as long as Lennier was still all right.

Delenn smiled, and Marcus felt a release of tension he had not realized had been building up within his muscles. "Lennier is still recovering, but he is ever so much better than he was. Doctor Franklin is amazed by how quickly he is progressing. I should think he will be well enough to return to work soon, although if it were up to Lennier he would have been writing reports for me while he was still in Medlab." She laughed, and Marcus forced a chuckle. Even over the channel, Delenn picked up on his effort, and sadness veiled her eyes.

"I am so sorry, Marcus. The grief of losing a friend is perhaps the worst feeling one can know. For you to have spent so long believing Lennier to be gone…"

Marcus shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Delenn. He's all right, and that's all I care about. Never mind what I went through – it was worth it to know he's on his way to recovery. And it wasn't your fault. The universe just has an unfortunate sense of timing sometimes. It's just a lot to process, that is all. I promise. In fact, despite my two months of grief, I feel as I have come out of it for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what you told me you thought I should give up for the _Nafak'cha_?"

"Yes, of course. Your guilt at surviving people you loved and not being able to help them." She was tentatively hopeful, Marcus could tell.

"Well, I know it's a bit late for the _Nafak'cha_ , but I am happy to say I have made great strides in letting go of that guilt. And it was Lennier who inspired me to do it."

Delenn gasped, beaming with joy and pride. "Marcus, that is wonderful! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me."

"Thank you, Delenn, for keeping your faith in me."

"I would not have had I thought you did not deserve it. Lennier will be happy to hear this news as well. He, too, was worried about the state of your heart, Marcus. He has missed you – he has asked several times when you will be returning. And although Vir and I have been doing what we can to keep him company, I think it will do him good to have another friend to visit with him as he recovers. I'm afraid being confined to bed and now to his quarters for so long has been a bit difficult on him."

"I know how much he loves his work," chuckled Marcus. "I can't imagine he's enjoyed being away from it for this long. But if it's all right with you, could we not tell him I'm returning until I'm actually there? If he indeed has missed me as you said, my showing up unexpectedly might be a nice surprise." It felt good to know his friend had missed him, Marcus thought. His own thoughts had been on Lennier so often over the past couple of months, so it warmed the cockles of his heart just a bit to know that Lennier had been thinking of him, as well.

"I think that is a wonderful idea, Marcus! Lennier will be so pleased to see you. But I am afraid I must be going – I have a meeting I must attend. When should I expect you back?"

"Around seventy-two hours from now. I'll call you and check in a few hours before docking."

"All right. Fly safely, Marcus. And know that I am _so_ proud of you."

The warmth in Marcus's heart at her words lingered long after the transmission ended. Making sure the autopilot was set correctly, he leaned back in his seat and let his thoughts wander to pleasant places, and eventually dozed off.

Three days later, Marcus made his way stiffly from the docking port into the terminal of Babylon 5, thankful beyond measure to be able to stand up straight and take full strides after three days in the tiny, cramped flier. He could see Delenn sitting in the terminal, talking to Vir Cotto. When she noticed Marcus's approach, Delenn brightened visibly, stood, and began to make her way over to him. They met halfway, and before Marcus could say anything, Delenn threw her arms around him.

"It is good to see you, Marcus," she said, joy evident in her voice, before stepping back and appearing to give his face a thorough examination.

"It's still the same old me, Delenn," laughed Marcus. "Being abducted and replaced with a clone was not on my mission itinerary, I can assure you."

"It _is_ you, but you seem so much more whole than when you left. I feel as though I am truly seeing _you_ for the first time, Marcus."

"And do you like what you see?"

"Very much." Her smile seemed to overflow the confines of her face. It was infectious.

"How's Lennier?"

Delenn's radiant visage flickered just the tiniest bit with sadness. "Physically, he is continuing to recover just fine. But he had a difficult night last night. I am afraid he is…learning to deal with a personal matter, and one that will not soon go away. But the details are not mine to disclose, I am afraid."

"Oh course not," said Marcus, shaking his head. "But should I perhaps not go and visit him just now? Maybe he would rather be alone?"

"On the contrary, I think seeing you would be of great benefit to him," replied Delenn. "Especially since I will stuck in meetings well into the evening tonight, I am afraid. I am loathed to leave him alone for so long just now without at least checking up on him, but I am afraid as soon as I leave here I will be a prisoner to the pursuit of diplomacy for hours without end." She looked mildly disgusted.

"Then I shall go and keep him company," said Marcus definitively. "I shall not even stop at my own quarters on the way."

"I think tonight would be better," countered Delenn. "It is the afternoon, so Lennier is probably asleep just now. I know he tries his best to be awake for when I visit him in the mornings and evenings. Actually, I think I have an idea." She glanced over her shoulder back at Vir, who was still sitting in the plastic terminal seat, looking at the "arrivals" board with growing concern on his face. When he sensed Delenn's gaze, however, he turned to look at her, and she motioned him over.

"Vir, Marcus do the two of you know each other?"

"A little," said Marcus. He knew _of_ the Centauri ambassadorial aide, certainly. He and Lennier were fairly good friends, and the strange alien equivalent of drinking buddies. And Vir had always seemed nice enough in the brief interactions they had had.

"Mostly by reputation. Yours is, of course, an excellent one, Ranger Cole," Vir clarified quickly.

"Please, call me Marcus." Marcus smiled at the young Centauri's polite awkwardness. Guessing he and Lennier would be friends was no great leap.

Vir nodded eagerly.

"Excellent," said Delenn. "Vir, would you happen to have plans for tonight?"

Looking yet again at the arrivals board, Vir sighed apprehensively. "Well, given that Londo's transport has now been delayed by thirty-six minutes, my guess would be that he will be in too much of a state for us to do any work for the rest of the day. And while I think I can hear him yelling all the way from hyperspace, the upswing is I should be free tonight."

Marcus winced sympathetically. He admired Vir's patience. If _Marcus_ had to deal with Londo day in and day out, he likely would have clocked him with his _Denn'bok_ a long time ago.

"Excellent," said Delenn. "As I was just telling Marcus, I am going to be in meetings for the rest of the day and well into the evening. But Lennier has had a bit of a difficult time recently, and I think he is feeling quite lonely. He does not know yet of Marcus's return. I was hoping that the two of you could surprise him with a visit and do something enjoyable tonight. In his quarters, of course – he isn't well enough to be up and about just yet, and you should make sure he isn't too tired for company. But I really think he would appreciate some companionship and something to take his mind off of…things."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," said Marcus.

"I agree," added Vir. "But what should we do? I've never planned a surprise feel-better party before."

Delenn smiled. "I am sure you will think of something marvelous. But I am afraid I really must be going, or I risk being late for my meeting. I am glad you are back, Marcus. I look forward to hearing about your mission. Have a good time tonight!"

And with that she was gone, leaving a slightly stunned Marcus and Vir in her wake.

"Amazing," said Marcus as he stared in the direction Delenn had vanished. "She has the entire universe under her thumb and yet no one resents her for it. She truly is a wonder."

"You sound like Lennier," said Vir with a touch of fondness.

"Hmm? Yes, I suppose I do. Speaking of whom, I suppose we have some planning to do."

"I want to help, but I don't have the faintest idea where to begin. I…don't entertain much, so I'm no good at planning this kind of thing."

"I am afraid I have rather the same problem." Marcus sighed. He scanned the terminal in mild desperation, looking for someone who might be of assistance. He was not really expecting to see anyone helpful, but to his immensely good fortune, his eyes rested upon the balding head of someone who seemed like they would be very good at finding ways to make a friend feel better. Marcus glanced at Vir to make sure he saw them, too, and Vir nodded. Together, the human and the Centauri set off across the terminal. When they neared their target, Vir called out,

"Mr. Garibaldi! Mr. Garibaldi, do you have a moment? We need some advice."

That evening, Marcus and Vir, both having fulfilled their respective preparatory roles, met at the mouth of the hallway in Green Sector down which Lennier's quarters were located. Once they had determined that all aspects of their plan were in place, they got in position. Marcus, holding his flat square box, stood to the side of the door with his back flat against the wall so that he could not be seen from inside, and Vir rang the door chime.

"Who is it?" Lennier's voice seemed even more soft-spoken than normal, barely audible through the intercom.

"It's Vir," the Centauri stated cheerfully.

"Come in. Please." Lennier still sounded a bit weary, but decidedly brighter upon hearing his friend's voice. The door swung open and Vir stepped barely inside the threshold, staying close enough to prevent the door from automatically closing, which allowed Marcus to listen for his cue.

"Vir, this is a nice surprise. It…it's good to see you." Lennier sounded close to Marcus, as though he had gone to meet Vir at the door. The slight sadness in his voice that Marcus had thought he'd heard over the intercom was more evident now that he could hear it directly. Marcus recalled what Delenn had said about Lennier learning to deal with a personal matter that would not soon go away. Wondering what that matter could be had troubled Marcus all day. If he knew, perhaps he could help. But he knew better than to press the sensitive Lennier – he would just have to wait and hope his friend saw fit to confide in him.

But after two months of believing him to be dead, just hearing Lennier's voice seemed like a miracle. And Marcus didn't even believe in miracles.

"And you," replied Vir. "I saw Delenn today and she said she was in meetings all day and well into the evening, and she suggested you might like a friend to spend some time with. Are you feeling up to a little company?"

After a brief pause, Lennier answered softly,

"It would be nice to have a friend here tonight. Thank you, Vir. That's very kind."

"You're my friend – I enjoying spending time with you too, you know," Vir pointed out. "And I'm glad you're up for this, because I have a surprise for you!"

"A surprise?" Lennier sounded tentative.

His cue received, Marcus stepped away from the wall and into view, brandishing his cardboard-encased cargo in front of him.

"Surprise!"

"Marcus!" Marcus watched Lennier's expression change from stunned to joyful, and he couldn't help but feel happy at the way his friend's voice caught in his throat just the littlest bit when he said Marcus's name. After everything, Marcus could not resist _some_ form of physical contact with his friend, despite their tumultuous history with such things. Marcus handed his box to Vir and was about to warn Lennier that he was going to touch him when to Marcus's surprise, Lennier grabbed his arm.

"Marcus, it's _really_ good to see you."

"Not half as good as it is to see you." Marcus laid his free hand on top of Lennier's. "You gave us all quite a scare, my friend."

"So I've been informed." Lennier let go of Marcus's arm, clasped his hands in front of him, and lowered his eyes. "I am afraid I have a good number of apologies to make on that front."

"And as unwarranted as they are, I am sure you have made all of them several times already." Lennier looked up, the smallest of appreciative smiles pulling at one corner of his mouth. "I'm just glad to see you're on the mend."

Vir interjected with vague impatience. "While this is a very sweet reunion, the intoxicating smells coming from this box are getting to me. Can we eat soon?"

"That _does_ smell good," agreed Lennier. "What is it?"

"Ah." Marcus took the box back from Vir, set it on Lennier's counter, and opened the lid to reveal its tasty contents. "As it turns out, neither Vir nor I are very good at planning feel-better parties, so we asked our good friend Mr. Garibaldi for advice. He suggested pizza and a movie, so that is what we decided to do."

"Pizza?" echoed Lennier, examining the circular food item curiously. "I have never heard of this."

"I hadn't either, before today," admitted Vir. "But I am _very_ excited to try it."

"It's an Earth food, but one that fortunately carried over to Arisia when humans colonized it generations ago," said Marcus. "It's one of my personal favorites. Pepperoni, sausage, and a _lot_ of cheese, all on a crust with just the right amount of crispiness." His mouth watered as he spoke.

"Well, the last time I tried an Earth food with which I was unfamiliar, I ended up liking it very much," said Lennier. "I must admit, while I was eager to try foods from other cultures when I first came to Babylon 5, I did not expect to enjoy them as much as I do Minbari food. But Commander Ivanova's chocolate chip cookies are among some of the most pleasing foods I have ever eaten."

"They _were_ good," agreed Vir. "But to be fair, you had been subsisting on nothing but Medlab food for well over a week at that point."

"If they were made by Susan, I'm sure they were the definition of perfection," said Marcus staunchly. Susan had made chocolate chip cookies while he was gone? Could he have missed anything more wonderful? What a perfect chance to compliment her that would have been! That was it – Marcus was never leaving the station again. Anyway, there was nothing that could be done about it now.

"All right, let's get the movie going so we can start eating before Vir gets hungry enough to down the whole pizza before the rest of us can have any," he said, picking up the pizza and setting it on the table in front of the couch. The others followed him over. Lennier started to sit down on the floor, doubtlessly out of deference to his guests, but Marcus shook his head disapprovingly.

"Oh no, you don't. You lie down on the couch. Vir and I can sit on the floor."

Lennier's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no, I couldn't! You are guests…"

"Unannounced guests intruding upon your home whilst you are recovering from illness," Marcus pointed out. "We are supposed to be helping you feel better – that includes making sure you rest comfortably."

Lennier flashed a stubborn glare at him, but Marcus was not nearly as afraid to be demonstrative with his obstinacy as his polite friend. Lennier sighed softly and flopped down on the couch. Vir looked slightly apologetic toward his Minbari friend as he lowered himself to the floor.

"Good," said Marcus with a nod. "Now that our seating arrangements are in order, it is time for tonight's feature!" He examined the data crystal containing what they were to be viewing. "Vir, getting this was your job. Would you care to elaborate on exactly _what_ it is we're watching?"

"Yes! Um, well…I'm not quite sure, actually. As this was also at Mr. Garibaldi's recommendation, it is an Earth television show from the mid-twentieth century. For some reason, he did not give me the first episode – he told me 'the premise is nowhere near as good as the content'." I'm not sure what he meant by that." Vir shrugged as Marcus inserted the crystal into the port on the screen, and then went to sit by the Centauri on the floor.

"All right, mates, let's dig in!" He was met with two curious and somewhat confused expressions. "It means 'let's eat'!" Demonstratively, he took a piece of pizza from the box and bit into it, the cheesy, spicy goodness flooding his senses. After two months on mission, this was like heaven. He closed his eyes in bliss.

Vir and Lennier likewise chose the first parts of their dinner. Vir grabbed the first piece he could get his hands on and started on it immediately, nodding and making little noises of contentment. Lennier seemed to put great thought into his careful selection of slice. Once he had finally made his choice, he sniffed at it, then took the smallest of bites and chewed very slowly. It was rather fun for Marcus to see the exact moment in which the little Minbari realized he _loved_ pizza. His face lit up and he immediately took another, considerably larger bite, looking even happier.

The title of the television show flashed across the screen. Marcus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

" _Lost in Space?"_

"Apparently," confirmed Vir through a mouthful of pizza.

"That sounds both unfortunate and rather unenjoyable," said Lennier from his perch on the couch. "Does Mr. Garibaldi truly derive pleasure from observing the misfortunes of these people?"

"I'm sure it's only a story, Lennier," Marcus reassured him.

" _Wish Upon a Star_ ," Vir read the episode title aloud. "I don't think I understand."

"It's a very old human tradition," Marcus explained. "As the sun sets, you look for the first star to appear that night and make a wish. The tradition says your wish is _supposed_ to come true."

"But in reality any correlation is purely coincidental, surely," said Lennier. He sounded just the tiniest bit sad.

"I suppose so." Marcus did not mention that more than once he had looked outside the station window and wished upon a star that Susan would love him as he loved her. It hadn't happened yet, so Lennier was probably right.

They settled in to watch the show. After they finished eating, Vir and Marcus relaxed with their backs leaning against the bottom of the couch, and Lennier actually laid down without Marcus having to tell him to do so again, facing the television, his cheek and the side of his headbone resting on one of the throw pillows.

The episode was so terribly campy that it truly was entertaining – Marcus was not surprised for a moment that Garibaldi enjoyed it. The characters, a human family and an hilariously annoying scientist who were, as the show's title implied, stranded on a conveniently livable planet, found a machine that granted wishes at a mere thought.

"Why don't they just wish themselves back to Earth?" asked Vir.

"I imagine they'll address that. Or at least I hope," answered Marcus. "Awww, little Will wants a microscope. Lennier, I doubt even _you_ were that intellectually oriented as a child."

"On the contrary, I see quite a bit of younger self in the character."

"I'll bet you snuck out of your room at the temple in the middle of the night to go to the library all the time, didn't you?" Marcus turned back to his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Lennier seemed appalled that he would even imply such a thing. "Or at least not when I was that age. It was forbidden for the youngest novitiates to leave their rooms past curfew." He paused then, a small smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "I might have, on quite a few occasions, combined a large blanket and a carefully placed candle to stay up past bedtime reading in my room, however."

Marcus chuckled and, at Vir's shushing, turned back to the show. What was interesting to him was that the show had been made so close to the invention of television on Earth that it was in black and white. When he turned around to share this observation with the history-loving Lennier approximately half an hour in to the episode, he found that his friend had fallen fast asleep where he lay on the couch. Marcus seriously doubted that this had anything to do with being bored with their choice of feature, and much more to do with Lennier still being in the process of recovering both his physical and emotional strength. Marcus nudged Vir and pointed at their mutual friend; they both smiled warmly, and Marcus lowered the volume of the show just a touch. Then he rose, removed the blanket from Lennier's bed, and tucked it over the Minbari. He and Vir then continued to watch in relative quiet, allowing the show to roll over into the next episode after they finished the one about the wishing machine. At one point, Vir squinted his eyes at the screen in deep concentration.

"Marcus, that little boy, Will – does he look familiar to you?" he asked quietly, so as not to wake his dozing friend.

Marcus studied the character carefully.

"Now that you mention it, yes, he does. I can't quite place him, but I do have the strangest feeling that I've seen him before."

The two looked at each other, and then slowly, simultaneously turned back to look at Lennier, who was still sleeping peacefully on the couch. They stared at him for several seconds, then shook their heads and turned back to the screen.

When the second episode ended, Vir turned to Marcus and said, sounding regretful,

"I hate to leave without saying goodbye to Lennier, but I really ought to be going. Londo will want to start early in the morning, I'm sure, and a good night's sleep takes dealing with him for a full day from exquisite torture to only painful most of the time. But I don't want Lennier to wake up and find us both gone…"

"I'll stay with him," Marcus reassured him. "You go ahead. I'm sure he'll understand."

"Thanks," replied Vir gratefully. He headed for the door, but then turned back around.

"We did well, didn't we? I mean I know he fell asleep half an hour in, but he seemed happy for that half an hour. And I've learned that I like pizza. A lot."

Marcus chuckled. "Yes, Vir. We did do well. In fact, I think we should make movie nights a regular occurrence."

Vir agreed wholeheartedly, and then went on his way. Marcus settled down at Lennier's kitchen table with the copy of _The Three Musketeers_ he had found on his friend's bookshelf. Marcus had read the giant tome several times, but there was always room for one more. The book looked as though it had been read, although he wouldn't have pinned Lennier for a Dumas fan. After another half hour or so, Lennier stirred and then sat up, blinked, and looked around, confused. He furrowed his brow when his gaze landed on Marcus.

"Did…did I fall asleep?"

"You certainly did, my friend," laughed Marcus, getting up and going to sit next to his friend on the couch. "For nearly ninety minutes. We finished "Wish Upon a Star" and the entire subsequent episode."

"Oh," said Lennier quietly. "Then I am afraid I have quite ruined your feel-better party. I am very sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was _your_ party, after all! So you can do whatever you want to do at it – including sleep through the vast majority of the show."

"I didn't _want_ to sleep," Lennier sighed. "But I am afraid my body is still feeling the effects of my illness a bit. And yesterday…yesterday was difficult. I am afraid it exhausted me." He sighed and sat back, and while Marcus was surprised that Lennier would say even that much about something that was clearly emotionally problematic for him, he wished yet again that his friend would further confide in him.

"I suppose Vir has gone home?" Lennier folded his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, looking as though he were trying to make himself as small as possible.

"He has. He has an early start in the morning. He did not want to leave without saying goodnight, but I told him I'd say it for him."

Lennier allowed himself the smallest of smiles. "That's nice. Of both of you."

Marcus grinned. "I know."

Lennier sighed, unfolded himself, and rose slowly. "If you will please excuse me, I have medication I should not allow myself to become overdue in taking." He walked over to the little open kitchen, poured himself a sizeable glass of water, and then began to tackle an extensive row of prescription bottles that Marcus had not previously noticed.

"Did Stephen just unload his extra pharmacy inventory onto you, Lennier? Exactly how many medications are you on?" He hoped it was evident that the question was asked out of concern rather than a simple drive to pry. But apparently Lennier understood, for he did not lash out; he only sighed wearily.

"Right now? Five."

" _Five?_ "

"It is considerably less than the eleven I had to take when I was first released from Medlab. And I actually do not know what the doctor gave me intravenously while I was hospitalized." He twisted the lid back on the last bottle and traipsed back over to sit once more on the couch. Marcus followed him. "I was so weak and constantly exhausted for such a long time that I am afraid I had no choice but to simply put my continued existence completely in Doctor Franklin's hands. And while I know those hands are extremely capable, and I am eternally grateful to have someone with such talent and skill here to care for me, it was still very unnerving." He seemed to Marcus to be suppressing a shiver.

"That's perfectly understandable," Marcus reassured him. "You're a protector, Lennier. Even if you had never come to Babylon 5 or met Delenn, you would have found someone else to protect and serve – it's not just in your training, but also in your nature. Being severely compromised like that, when you have that kind of personality…it's unbelievably difficult. The need to be able to fight for the people you love – it doesn't go away. You just _can't_ do it. I know what it feels like. Being _Anla'Shok_ has its downsides, and one of them, I am afraid, is injury."

Lennier afforded him a small, grateful smile, but then sighed shakily.

"As awful as it was, I am afraid I might need to become accustomed to it."

"What do you mean?" Was Lennier actually about to confide in him? Marcus tried to keep as voice as calm as possible, as though Lennier's confidence was some wild animal that would startle and bolt at the slightest of noises. But it was a struggle – Lennier's words worried him.

Lennier studied the floor for several seconds, so long that Marcus was sure he'd decided against talking to him. But then, so softly that Marcus nearly missed it, he murmured,

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Tell them what, Lennier?"

Slowly, painfully, Lennier met his eyes. "That this could happen all over again, just as easily as I cut my finger on that chair in Down Below. I could be dying in Medlab again next week, or next year, or ten years from now."

Marcus's heartbeat quickened, and his stomach felt as though it were doing somersaults. "I don't understand."

And then Lennier told him about the genetic test, the disease, and the positive result of the previous day. It was no wonder he seemed so weary, both emotionally and physically – news like that was the kind of thing that took a heavy toll, even when one was healthy. And likewise, it was suddenly obvious to Marcus why Delenn had not wanted Lennier to be alone tonight.

"Please don't tell anyone," Lennier implored once more when he had finished his tale. "Right now the only other person besides the medical staff who knows about this is Delenn, and I wish to keep it that way. I have considered telling Vir as well, as he is my closest friend beyond the two of you. But he has been so wonderfully kind to me these past few weeks. I don't wish to worry him unnecessarily."

"I won't tell a soul," Marcus reassured him. He would have preferred Lennier notify his friends and the people he worked with, so that measures could be taken to keep him safe. But he knew that Lennier would be appalled at this, and he knew why.

"Thank you," said Lennier, drawing his legs up so that he sat cross-legged on the couch. "I just know that if word of this gets out, everyone is going to start worrying about me and treating me like I'm going to break. And I don't want that. If anything else in my life suddenly becomes different, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You'll cope," said Marcus softly. "Just as you will do with this, and just as you do with everything else. It might not be easy, and you might fight it, but at the end of the day you know you have people who need you and who care about you, so you'll work through it, for them. And for one person in particular."

Lennier closed his eyes for a moment, and Marcus was glad to see a truly happy smile tug at his friend's lips. "Yes. One person in particular."

"How's she doing with all of this?" asked Marcus gently, knowing that Delenn and feelings tended to be a touchy combination of subjects for his friend.

"I have always known that Delenn's capacity for compassion is infinite, but that does not change how honored I feel to have had her here with me throughout this ordeal. She has cared for me, comforted me, and kept me holding onto the last threads of my strength when nothing else could. Throughout the course of my illness and recovery, we have grown closer. I have let go of my misplaced love for her, and we have embarked upon the path of what I know will be the deepest of friendships." Lennier paused then for several seconds, his eyes distant, as though he were remembering something terribly painful and trying to summon up the strength to speak of it.

"She is truly the only reason I am still alive, Marcus. She never left me the whole time I was ill – not once. I do not remember much of what happened during that time, but every memory I do have involves her doing everything she could to comfort me whilst I was in the throes of delirium. I do not deserve a fraction of the love she has shown me, but without it I know I would not be alive to tell you all of this. But it came at such a terrible price." He drew a tremulous breath. "I put her through so much pain and worry throughout all of this, and now with this…condition with which I have been diagnosed, I am afraid that I will only continue to hurt her further. I know." He lifted a hand against Marcus's impending protest. "I know it isn't my fault, and that there isn't anything I can do about it. Delenn has reassured me of this more times than I can count. But that does not change the facts. I only wish I could _begin_ to make up for what I put her through."

"Perhaps I can help you there, my friend," said Marcus softly. Lennier, who had once again been staring at his feet, quickly met his eyes, hope sparking behind his soft brown irises. "May I tell you a story?" Lennier nodded, a looking a bit apprehensive but still desperate to believe that Marcus really could help him.

"I did not receive the transmission about your recovery until I returned to Minbar a few days ago," Marcus began. "I am afraid I spent two months believing you to be dead."

Lennier's eyes widened in horror, and when he spoke, his voice came out ever so slightly higher-pitched than normal. "Marcus, I know you are trying to help, but I am afraid you are doing a terrible job of it."

"I know, but you have to hear me out. Will you listen to rest of the story, and trust me?"

Lennier considered this uncertainly for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

"Thank you." And then Marcus told Lennier _everything_ \- his attempts at prayer, the message from Stephen before he had left for his mission, his destruction of the prayer area in his quarters in the barracks (at which Lennier winced visibly but did not comment upon, sadness written in his eyes), and finally his grief and subsequent revelation on the freighter.

"I knew you would want to die with honor, because that's an important thing to your people," Marcus finished quietly. "And if your death could not be in Delenn's service, I suspected that for you an honorable death would mean making her happy somehow. I am afraid I made her rather sad when I could not let go of my guilt at being alive and well when many whom I love are dead or hurting. Letting go wasn't easy, Lennier – in fact, it was probably the hardest damn thing I've ever done. But you were dying, and if I couldn't make you live then I had to do _something_. It still hurts, but I don't feel the guilt anymore. But until a few days ago, everything I felt was marred by my grief for you."

"And now?" Lennier whispered. His eyes had remained as wide as saucers throughout Marcus's entire tale. He clearly felt awful, and guilty, for what Marcus had gone through, but simultaneously daring to hope that something good for someone he cared about might have come out of this terrible situation.

"I am still a bit in shock, to be completely honest with you," replied Marcus with a harsh laugh. "I mean, look at you." He gestured up and down at Lennier's body, attempting to indicate the fact that his friend continued to exist. "Four days ago, I was completely convinced you'd died nearly two months ago, and here I am having pizza with you. But I…I'm starting to feel something different, Lennier. Something I don't think I've ever felt before. I think…I think it might be peace." He drew a deep breath, searching deep within himself. Yes, peace. It was not a concept he was terribly familiar with. He had never allowed himself to feel it before. But now…things were different now. It would be a slow process, but perhaps he and peace would come to be at least passing acquaintances.

"Lennier, you should have seen Delenn's face when I told her. She was _so_ happy."

"Thank you." Lennier's voice was barely audible, but his eyes shown with gratitude. "She was upset and so very worried about you over the whole situation with the _Nafak'cha_. After everything that has happened, thank you for giving her this. I…I do not know how to repay you."

"Continuing to stay alive would be a pretty good start."

Lennier, in classic fashion, missed the touch of humor entirely. "This _has_ helped, Marcus. And as far as seeing you with a soul on the way to being mended, Delenn is not the only one made happy." Marcus raised his eyebrows at the admission of personal feelings as Lennier continued, more quietly this time.

"You're my friend, Marcus. And though our relationship has been tumultuous at times, which was my fault far more often than not, the state of your soul matters to me." He lowered his eyes in automatic concern about the presumptuousness of his statement, his Religious Caste training and introverted nature struggling against his feelings of friendship toward Marcus.

"You know," chuckled Marcus, "you're very bold, for a Religious Caste Minbari." Lennier triangled his hands, and Marcus decided to stop being cruel. "But that's why I like you. We're more alike that either of us realize, I think. We both care _hard_."

 _Thank you. I'm immeasurably glad you're getting well. My world is so much better with you in it, my friend._ Marcus had just expressed more touchy-feely stuff than he ever had at one time, and he did not think he could manage one iota more just now. So he hoped that Lennier could read the hidden message in his words.

Lennier looked up at him, and Marcus could see that he understood.

"Yes," said Lennier softly, thoughtfully. "I suppose we do."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes then, until Marcus bid his friend goodnight, citing Lennier's continued need for rest and his own weariness from his long journey. Lennier started to bow as he saw Marcus out the door, but then stopped himself, which made Marcus smile widely.

"Good night, Marcus," Lennier said instead, a detectable warmth in his voice. "Thank you for tonight, and…for everything."

"Good night, my friend."

And as he walked down the hall toward the transport tube that would take him to his quarters, Marcus could feel himself and peace heading toward a working relationship, step by tiny step.


	17. SoICanStopForAMinute and Be By Your Side

Lennier sat on the examination bench in Medlab with his hands clasped in front of him, trying not to look as impatient as he felt. It was not that Doctor Franklin was taking too long with his examination or his tests – Lennier would never even think to complain about such a thing, especially since the doctor had been so kind and done so much for him as of late. It was only that although Lennier was feeling ever so much better, Doctor Franklin always seemed to turn up something that implied he was not yet recovered enough to resume his duties as Delenn's aide. Of course, Lennier knew that the doctor was only exercising an abundance of caution out of concern for his patient's welfare, especially with the recent diagnosis of his genetic condition. And Lennier would be lying if he told himself he felt completely better – he still tired quite easily upon physical activity, and he found he needed more sleep than he normally would. But while Lennier really did appreciate the doctor's meticulous care and attention to his health, it was beginning to feel worryingly like he might just be stuck in his quarters forever.

At least the doctor had recently reduced his visits from every other day to twice a week – Lennier supposed that he should look for improvement wherever it could be found, and it could be found in that fact. But it was a subtle thing. Doctor Franklin was still putting him through the rigor of a hefty slew of tests every time he visited – a thorough physical examination as well as blood tests for his blood count and chemistry values, bacterial titers (which were mercifully down nearly to what one would expect in a normal patient), and antibody titers (again, nearly normal). He also received the twice-weekly injection of antibodies, which was administered into the muscle of his arm. Doctor Franklin reassured him that once Lennier had a clean bill of health and did not need to be rechecked for this illness anymore, he would show him how to inject himself so that he did not need to continue to come to Medlab twice a week but rather once every two weeks to have his blood drawn for an antibody titer. Lennier was grateful for this – the idea of poking himself in the arm with a needle twice a week did not bother him in the least. He was not squeamish, and this was a much more efficient system. Valen only knew how much he needed to get back to work and stay there. He did not have time to be continually running back and forth to Medlab – he had duties to concentrate on. Or at least he would whenever the doctor _finally_ told him he could go back to work.

He knew he ought to be accustomed to waiting by now, but each time he watched for Doctor Franklin to come through the exam room door seemed longer. Finally, the doctor entered, a data pad in his hand. His expression was unreadable – he had improved his "poker face", as Londo would have called it, since he had called Lennier about the results of the genetic test.

"Thanks for your patience, Lennier. These tests have gotten faster over the years, but it would still be nice if they were instantaneous."

The doctor took a seat next to the bench where Lennier perched. Lennier studied him for several seconds as the doctor sat in silence, looking over what was written on the data pad. Lennier's impatience and apprehension increased with every passing moment. What could the pad possibly say that was taking Franklin so long to analyze? Could his test results have worsened? Perhaps his antibody titer had dropped again – the doctor had told him that wasn't something you could feel happening, which was why he needed to be tested so often. If that was the case, how much longer would he need to stay cooped up in his quarters? Delenn had been so patient with the whole situation, and he knew she would gladly give him as long as he needed. But though of course she had said nothing on the matter, he knew how busy she was, and that she did not deserve to be without the help of an aide for any longer.

She had not, of course, deserved to be without help for any period of time, and no amount of reassurance on Delenn's part could have made Lennier feel any better about that. He had once tried to encourage her to ask the government for a temporary replacement, someone who could at least help with her mountains of paperwork. She had replied, simply but firmly, "I do not want another aide, Lennier. I just want you." Odd though it was, the combination of stubbornness and love in her eyes was enough to leave Lennier speechless and unable to argue any further. But it had driven him to want to go back to helping her all the more. He did not know what he was going to do with himself if he couldn't soon.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but in reality was probably just several seconds of Lennier studying Franklin's facial expression for any clues whatsoever, the doctor finally looked up from the data pad, met his patient's gaze, and laughed.

"I'm sorry, I just can't take you looking at me like that. Everything's looking great, Lennier – your physical exam, bloodwork, bacterial and antibody titers. I'm clearing you to go back to work."

"Right now?" Lennier's heart pounded with excitement. After all this time, all those weeks confined to bed and to his quarters, feeling helpless and useless in his inability to do the thing that mattered most in his life – protect and serve Delenn – he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Franklin chuckled. "As soon as I'm finished talking to you, yes."

Lennier stifled the urge to leap off of the bench and run out of Medlab and across the station straight to Delenn's quarters. Never mind that he was still in no condition to be running anywhere – at that moment, he felt as though he could run the entire circumference of Minbar without so much as losing his breath.

"Lennier. Lennier, listen to me," Franklin was saying, and Lennier forced himself to focus on the doctor's words. "I know you're excited, and you should be, but there are some caveats. You _can_ resume the majority of your normal duties as ambassadorial aide, as long as they don't involve too much physical activity. I don't want you on your feet for more than an hour at a time, and no exercise besides walking yet. And you need to take it slowly – take a half a day off if you're getting tired. Delenn will understand – I'm absolutely positive of that. Don't expect to be able to do everything you used to right away – full recovery from sepsis can take months. It will go faster if you listen to your body and give it the rest and time that it needs to finish healing. I know you want to jump right back in to your work, so this might be tough for you. But you have to promise me you'll eat and sleep and rest as much as your body needs, and that you'll come to me _right away_ if something feels wrong. I mean it, Lennier." Franklin gave his patient his best stern-doctor look. It was convincing, and Lennier knew he was serious, but behind it all he could see that the doctor was almost as thrilled as he was. _As he should be_ , thought Lennier. _He has worked as hard as I have for me to come this far._

"I promise," said Lennier in his most plaintive, convincing manner. He had developed that particular combination of tone and facial expression as a young child in temple, where it had been very effective in convincing the older novitiates to allow him to stay up reading for just a _few_ more minutes. It seemed to work on Doctor Franklin, too, because he did not seem to doubt Lennier's word, even when he mentally followed it up with _or at least I'll try_.

"Okay," said Franklin. "I imagine you're itching to tell Delenn the good news. Off you go, and I'll see you back in here for your antibody injection in three days."

"Thank you, Doctor!" Lennier jumped to the ground and bowed gratefully several times at Franklin on his way out. When he reached the door, he headed toward Green Sector as quickly as his still-recovering body would allow him. As much as he wanted to go straight to Delenn's quarters, he knew he needed to stop at his own first. There was something he needed to pick up.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Lennier, dressed in his favorite set of reddish-brown robes in the style traditionally worn by Religious Caste Minbari working outside of a religious setting, ran Delenn's door chime. By the time he heard her slightly distracted command of "Enter" and the door swung open, he was practically bouncing with excitement.

He found Delenn seated at her table, bent over no less than four data pads and looking a touch frustrated and flustered. It took her a couple of seconds to look up at him, as though she had momentarily forgotten having ordered her door open just moments before. But then she paused in her staring at the work in front of her and saw him, and then Lennier had the immeasurable pleasure of seeing her face absolutely light up.

"Lennier! What a lovely surprise! I wasn't expecting you…"

Lennier triangled his hands and bowed low. "Diplomatic aide Lennier, reporting for duty, with the permission of his doctor."

"You're _back_?" Delenn sounded breathless with excitement. Lennier nodded, still in a half-bow with triangled hands. Delenn let out a little squeak of joy, leapt to her feet, and cupped both of his cheeks in her palms, wrapping her fingers around the back of his headbone and gently drawing his head forward so their foreheads touched. Her smile in that moment was the brightest, most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her happiness, _their_ happiness, had been threatened so many times as of late. For this moment to exist was a miracle to match anything he had ever studied in temple. But it did exist, and Lennier closed his eyes, drinking it in. He could never remember ever having been happier. Delenn moved after several seconds and Lennier's heart cried out for her to stay, to make the moment last forever, or at least for a little while longer. But he found he did not have to give it up just yet, for Delenn released her hold on his head and threw her arms around him. He gasped slightly in surprise, but then returned her embrace, lacing his fingers into the folds of her dress and holding on tightly, feeling the hair on the top of her head brush lightly against his cheek.

"Lennier, this is such wonderful news," Delenn said after a long time, finally stepping backward. "I cannot tell you how glad I am to have you well and back at my side. It just has not been the same not having you around – whatever it is you and I are meant for in this universe, we are meant to do it _together_."

 _You have no idea,_ thought Lennier. His heart ached to tell her about his vision, about seeing Dukhat. She deserved to know, and it felt cruel to keep it from her. But as a scholar of religion, Lennier knew better than to interfere with the course of vision or prophecy. If Dukhat said Lennier would know when it was time to tell Delenn, then he would know. It might be days, or weeks, or even years. He would wait, and deal with the consequences when they came. It would all work out, because it was meant to. Right now, he would only relish this moment, this life, and being at the side of the person he loved most in the world.

"And I feel I can face anything the universe sends my way, if I only have you here with me," he agreed. "But first, I have something that belongs to you that needs returning." He reached inside the folds of his robe and from them withdrew Delenn's precious shawl, which he had folded with great care. He held it out to her with both hands.

"Thank you for lending me this, Delenn. To sacrifice something so dear to your heart and important to your comfort for me, especially when you were also in need of it, was so very kind. It helped even more than I think you know. I am afraid I have had much about which to despair recently, on top of feeling utterly miserable; but every time I put the shawl on, I was reminded of your affection and care for me. It was, of course, no substitute for having you there, but it helped me keep holding on until you returned. But now that I am back at your side, I feel justified in returning it to you."

Delenn took the shawl from his hands slowly, running her fingers along the soft cloth. For a moment, it seemed to Lennier that she was considering putting it on. But then set it lovingly on the table next to her couch, as though intending to put it away later.

"It has been quite busy in its role as an object of comfort for the both of us as of late, hasn't it? I think it is time it takes a well-deserved break." Her eyes sparkled, and Lennier smiled.

"Come," Delenn told him. "I imagine you are quite ready to get to work."

"Beyond ready," agreed Lennier.

"Excellent. The timing of your triumphant return could not have been better." Her smile broadened as she motioned for him to sit in the chair she had vacated when he had entered. The multiple data pads she had been poring over still sat spread out on the table.

"I have been working with the station's Cascor ambassador to try to negotiate a trade agreement. She has been resistant to the idea for weeks, but this morning she finally drew up her requested terms. Since getting her to cooperate has been such a struggle, I want to get back to her as quickly as possible. Lennier, throughout my time in politics, I have learned to read seven and fluently speak five languages, and I have conversational basics in seven more. But I can _not_ read Cascorian. I have been trying for three _hours_ , but I am afraid I cannot make head or tail of it. But since you are a trained linguist…"

"Say no more." Lennier took a seat, relishing the challenge of deciphering an entirely unfamiliar language. Scanning the first data pad, he immediately began to recognize a discernable pattern and began to take notes. He became absorbed in the work so quickly that he almost did not notice Delenn sit down next to him, still watching him work.

"Did I mention how glad I am to have you back?" He looked up; she was grinning from ear to ear. It was infectious.

"Yes, but it does not hurt to hear it again."

Delenn laughed, and Lennier was still smiling as he turned back to his work. He did not stop smiling for a long, long time.

Lennier's first few days back at work went very well. His spirits were higher than they had been since long before he had fallen ill, for now he did not have to balance and mask his feelings for Delenn. He could relax around her, and enjoy her company as she did his. And he finally felt useful again. He had never thought he would be so happy to just be doing paperwork.

Delenn had, of course, managed to squeeze Doctor Franklin's stipulations for going back to work out of Lennier. She always made sure he ate enough and went to his Medlab appointments. She also watched him very closely, making him lie down on the couch for a while at the slightest sign of fatigue. He had protested half-heartedly the first time she had done this, but one stern glance had seen him obediently prostrated. But Lennier was immensely appreciative and touched by Delenn's continued attentiveness to his well-being. And although the idea had shocked him the first time he had acknowledged it, he had to admit that he _enjoyed_ it when she looked after him. But then again, when he had been as ill as he had, wasn't he entitled to relish his friend's ministrations just a little bit?

Due to Delenn's vigilance concerning his health, Lennier found that he was able to work full days, despite Doctor Franklin's warning that he might not be able to in the beginning. After having been out of work for so long, it made him feel like he was making up for lost time. But it did mean that he could do nothing else _but_ work. Most evenings he barely managed to get some dinner into his system before collapsing into bed and sleeping until the morning. Lennier was glad of his progress, but he was very much looking forward to not being so tired that he could not spend time with his friends after work occasionally. He missed Marcus and Vir.

So when, after a few days of Lennier being back on the job, Delenn announced that she was going to deliver a folder of quarterly import/export summaries to Londo's quarters and would be back as soon as possible (all the while looking as though she was just a bit afraid she would be kept prisoner there forever), Lennier saw his chance.

"May I take them?"

"Are you sure, Lennier? You should not be on your feet too much yet." Delenn looked obviously concerned, but Lennier did not miss her relief at his offer.

"It is only three levels down, Delenn," he reminded her reassuringly. "And I will come right back, I promise. It is only…I have not seen Vir in several days; since before I returned to work, in fact. I am afraid I have been so tired in the evenings I have not even had the energy to call him. I would like to at least let him know all is well."

"All right," she said, her gratitude evident in her tone. "Thank you, Lennier."

He quickly triangled his hands and dipped his head on the way out the door, and then set off for the Centauri ambassador's quarters. He did very much want to see Vir as well as simply stretch his legs a bit, but those were not the only reasons he had offered to do this particular errand. No, it was time for him to follow through on a promise he had made several weeks prior.

Arriving at Londo's door, Lennier took a deep breath and exhaled. This would not be easy, but it was necessary. He rang the chime.

"Come." The ambassador's heavily accented voice rang out through the intercom, and the door swung open. Londo turned from where he was sitting at his desk and saw Lennier enter.

"Mister Lennier! Are you back to running Delenn's errands for her, then?" Londo's tone and expression were unironic, reaffirming Lennier's conviction to keep his promise to Vir.

"Amongst other duties, yes," he replied politely. He approached the desk and held out the folder he had been carrying. "Here are the quarterly import/export summaries you required."

As Londo took the folder from his hands, Lennier glanced around the quarters, lavishly decorated with purple and red drapings and hung with portraits of Centauri emperors from bygone eras. "Is Vir around?"

"He just went to his quarters to pick up some reports he left there. He should be back at any moment. Did you have need of him?" Londo opened the folder and began scanning its contents as he spoke.

"Not particularly; I only wished to say hello," Lennier clarified. "I am afraid I've inadvertently neglected him over the past few days, which is quite unfair given how kind he has been to me recently."

"Ah, yes. You should certainly rectify that situation. He is hideously absent-minded, that Vir. But he is a good man, and a good friend. That is not something to be taken for granted."

"I absolutely agree," said Lennier quickly, wishing fervently that Vir was there to hear Londo's kind words. He wondered if his friend would believe him if he told him what his employer had said about him. But he could not dwell on that; he still had work to do.

"On that note, Ambassador, Vir told me of your concern for me while I was ill, and that you tried to visit me while I was recovering in Medlab. I just wanted you to know that I am grateful."

Londo's large eyebrows went up. "While I accept and appreciate your gratitude, Mister Lennier, I can assure you that it is quite unnecessary. I was simply doing what friends do. For we are friends, are we not, Mister Lennier?"

"Yes. We are." And Lennier meant it. He really and truly did. Being Londo's friend would not be easy, and they certainly would not be terribly close. But despite the Centauri's less-than-ideal life choices, he deserved another chance. The ambassador's wide, fang-filled smile let Lennier know he had done the right thing.

Vir chose that moment to walk in.

"Ah, Vir! My good friend Mister Lennier and I were just wondering when you would return." Londo motioned his attaché over.

"Good friend?" echoed Vir, looking to Lennier for confirmation.

"Yes," said Lennier with a knowing look, and Vir smiled as wide as Londo had but a moment before.

"But Lennier," said Vir, the circumstances obviously just then registering in his head, "you're here! I mean, you're here as in, you're not in your quarters. Or…not _just_ in your quarters. I mean…are you supposed to be here?"

Lennier chuckled. "Yes, Vir. Doctor Franklin cleared me to return to work a few days ago. I am sorry I have not been in touch – while I am indescribably glad to have resumed my duties working for Delenn, I am afraid they have left me considerably more tired than they normally would."

"Oh, that's okay! You take all the time you need. And when you're ready, we'll sit at the bar and you can tell me all about those rituals like you promised."

"You mean like _you_ promised."

"It doesn't really matter, I suppose," said Vir thoughtfully. Then, rather impulsively, he wrapped his friend into a hug, which Lennier returned eagerly.

"I'm really glad you're better, Lennier."

"As am I," agreed Lennier. His ribcage was slightly squished by the ferocity of the Cenaturi's embrace, but it felt good. "For so many reasons."

Lennier clutched the large tray with both hands to avoid spilling its cargo as he walked through the door to Delenn's quarters.

"Hello, Delenn!" He called out from behind the contents of his arms.

"Hello, Lennier," she replied warmly, sounding immensely glad to see him, as though they had not just finished their workday together a mere two hours prior. She started to get up off the couch to help him as he placed the tray on the counter, but he motioned for her to remain seated.

"No, please. You've had such a tiring day, with all of those meetings."

"You were in all of the meetings, too," she reminded him, but she stayed on the couch.

"Yes, but you were speaking in them. That is far more tiring than note-taking, which is what I did all day." Lennier pulled Delenn's kettle out of the cabinet, filled it, and set it on the stove for tea.

"There must be _something_ I can help with." Delenn started to stand again, but having finished what he needed to in the kitchen for the time being, Lennier brought the tray over and set it on the small table in front of the couch before Delenn could get to her feet.

"Delenn, this is a celebration of my clean bill of health, remember? I am completely recovered from my illness, and therefore it is finally _my_ turn to serve _you_. _" Which is just the way it should be._

She smiled and finally settled back onto the couch before turning her attention to the contents of the tray.

"Lennier, those smell very enticing. What are they?"

"They are called chocolate chip cookies. They are a human food that I have found I rather enjoy. Commander Ivanova was kind enough to give me her recipe, but only after she made me swear an oath not to widely distribute them around the station and use them to appropriate the favor she gained by doing so herself." He shook his head at Delenn's puzzled look. "It is a long story. Try one."

Delenn selected a cookie from the platter and bit into it.

"Lennier, this is wonderful! It is so soft and sweet – I want to eat all of them at once! I cannot believe I have never tried these before." She took another bite, bliss spreading over her features.

"I am glad you like them. I can make them any time you want." Lennier's heart danced to see the happiness the sweet little morsels had brought Delenn.

Delenn laughed softly. "Lennier, on-call cookie baking goes beyond the job description of a diplomatic aide."

"Perhaps, but not that of a best friend."

She met his eyes, her gaze full of enough love and affection and happiness to leave Lennier breathless with joy.

And so they sat next to one another on the couch, drinking tea and eating cookies long into the night, talking and reminiscing and each just enjoying the other's company. Their lives would never be perfect – there would always be the threat of serious consequences from Lennier's genetic condition, and many unknown dangers lay hidden in the galaxy waiting for them. But that was all right, because no matter what trouble befell them, they had each other. And because of that, despite the uncertainty of the future, Lennier was finally happy.


End file.
